Creatures Great and Small
by Scies
Summary: A Novel. Featuring critters, more critters, an exotic beauty and the usual suspects.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes**: It took longer than I thought it would to sort this out, and I am not entirely happy with the result, but here is another story that's been sitting on my hard drive for times untold. I'll revise and upload it in the manner I did with _Ship of Fools_, although the breaks between chapters may be somewhat longer.

Again, this is a TNG novel – of slightly less than average length I believe. I've rated it T just to be on the safe side; there is a very moderate amount of violence, and if I remember correctly there are a few suggestive comments. If you read and liked _Ship of Fools_, be warned – there is no thematic darkness whatsoever here; in fact this is probably as close to pure comedy as I'll ever get.

A Novel. Featuring critters, more critters, an exotic beauty and the usual suspects.

Lest I forget: Star Trek is the property of Paramount. This is a work of fan fiction, written solely for the pleasure of it. I am not making money here, and don't intend to.

**- - - - - - -**

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Prologue**

"_Ngahyak_?" echoed Captain Jean-Luc Picard, slightly puzzled but trying his best to get the intonation right.

"_Ngahyak_," confirmed Admiral Blackwell. „One of the main concerns of the FeCoPES at the moment."

"The FeCoPES?" Picard asked in bewilderment.

There was a short pause during which the expression of Admiral Blackwell on the little monitor on Picard's desk grew noticeably colder. "You don't know?"

"I... no, to be honest, I don't."

"It was in the bulletins."

"Oh. I see. I... well, sometimes I don't get round to reading them. We have been fairly busy recently."

"It's been in the last four issues, actually." Margaret Blackwell's gaunt face on the monitor added plainly: _Good try_. Picard decided on an honorable surrender before he managed to make the situation any worse.

"I'm sorry. What _is_ the FeCoPES?"

"The Federation Committee for the Protection of Endangered Species. It was founded over five months ago. Including representatives from ESPrA, the GWF, Vets without Borders and a number of other organizations. Originally the idea was to involve as many bodies as possible, but I'm afraid those efforts failed. The A.S.A. and some other organizations refused to participate. Anyway, the FeCoPES has now been approached by the Federation Council over the problem presented by the ngahyak issue."

"And the ngahyak are – ?"

"A species of animal native to Yalnrag. You _have_ heard that Yalnrag has expressed an interest in joining the Federation at some stage?"

"Yes," said Picard, humbled.

"Exactly. They would meet all the conditions for associative membership including a single planetary government if it wasn't for those animals. Unfortunately there are a number of religious groups who refuse to acknowledge the government because the government refuses to acknowledge the status of the ngahyak. Among traditionally-minded people the creatures are considered sacred. There has been trouble already."

"I see," said the captain, wondering uncomfortably where he and his ship might be coming in.

"We're sending an expert to evaluate the situation and try to effect a compromise. And we're sending the _Enterprise_ to provide an appropriate background. In fact your diplomatic expertise may be in demand, Jean-Luc," said Admiral Blackwell, thawing a little. "They are... well, idiosyncratic on Yalnrag."

"It sounds like it," replied Picard, trying to keep a note of relief out of his voice. For a moment he had been envisaging large numbers of animals being evacuated aboard his ship.

"We're transmitting all the material we have at present. The envoy will fill you in on the details. The undertaking has the full support of the Yalnragian government, of course – they will make every effort to help you." The admiral paused for a moment. "Oh. About the ngahyak. Apparently they are somewhat like a gnu and a little like a very large rabbit. Bluish," she added.

"I'll look them up."

„There's nothing there to look up. According to our sources there aren't many left, and until a few months ago very few people outside that planet even knew of their existence. To the government they appear to be an embarrassment more than anything else – an obstacle on the path to Federation membership. I should add that our sources are giving the impression of being somewhat... partisan. The government has been quite open and helpful, especially after what we had been led to expect. However, it's a fact that our envoy will be the first outsider ever to be allowed to study those animals." The admiral's face looked a little grimmer for a second or two. "It seems they have agreed on _that_ much at least."

"You are sending a zoologist, then?"

"She is a seasoned diplomat as well. The perfect person for the job – she's the one who resolved the quarrel over the Mulgars on Suma V. The Lady Mallien Lyet'Eltaun Anthura Mal'Tyr-Aurell."

"Pardon me?"

"Lady Mallien Lyet'Eltaun Anthura Mal'Tyr-Aurell," the admiral repeated fluidly with a tinge of smugness. "At least, I have been informed that among fellow professionals she prefers this version to be used, rather than her _full_ name."

"I see," said the captain, feeling a little stunned.

"You will pick her up at Starbase 208. She is a citizen of Ruylan II – you know what that implies. I haven't met her personally, but she has a reputation of extreme competence. In fact," said Admiral Blackwell, looking at what was evidently a padd on her desk and raising her eyebrows, "I should have thought you would be familiar with the name. You should know all about the Suma V crisis."

"Oh?" _What now_? the captain found himself thinking.

"The material I have been sent says you have been a member of the A.S.A. for _years_." She made no effort to hide a certain amused forbearance in her voice.

Picard winced. "Margaret, please," he interrupted hastily. "My membership is purely... well, nominal... and acquired through no effort of my own. In fact..."

"You've never heard of the Suma V crisis."

"No," conceded the captain.

"Well. You soon will. The mission particulars should be in your computer now, and I have no doubt she will be able to fill you in on all the gaps." She was still looking faintly amused, and quite superior. Picard smiled at her.

"I am certainly looking forward to meeting this Lady Mallien Lyet'Eltaun Anthura Mal'Tyr-Aurell," he said, and at least had the satisfaction of seeing Admiral Blackwell's jaw drop just a little in disbelief.

"Very well," she replied rather stiffly. "That will be all, then. Blackwell out."

Picard frowned at the empty screen on his ready room desk. Then he tapped a key. "Computer, display all recent Starfleet bulletin articles about the subject of ngahyak. Everything from the last four issues."

The computer chirped and complied. Twenty minutes later the captain cleared the screen, leant back in his chair, and addressed the intercom.

"Picard to Commander Riker. Please report to my ready room."

The _Enterprise'_s first officer came barreling into the ready room about three seconds later, not even trying to hide his intense curiosity. "Captain? You wanted to see me?"

"Sit down, Number One."

Riker dropped into a chair, looking expectant. "New assignment?"

"We'll be looking into the ngahyak problem on Yalnrag," the captain explained.

Riker's face went blank. "Sir?"

"You know about Yalnrag, don't you?"

"I think I do. They've put in an application for Federation membership. But what's the yahyak?"

"Not _yahyak_, Will," corrected the captain. "Ngahyak. It's been in the bulletins for months. You must have come across it."

Riker fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well, as a... actually, sir, I'm afraid I'm not quite up to the latest developments." (What the _hell_ was the ngahyak?) "We've been rather busy lately, and what with one thing and another, I... well, I haven't managed to keep up." He squirmed a little under Picard's steady gaze. Was that a trace of reproachfulness in those patient hazel eyes? "I'll look it up immediately."

"I'm afraid there's not much there to look up," said Picard, and Riker gave a mental groan. He _had_ neglected reading the bulletins. Obviously, the captain had not. He hated disappointing the captain. "You'll find information about the political situation but not about the ngahyak. Apparently these animals are considered sacred to the degree that recordings have been strictly forbidden until a very short time ago. The issue of their official status has split the planet into factions. If we don't manage to effect a compromise the single planetary government may well be a thing of the past, and in that case so would be their application for Federation membership. That's the story in a nutshell."

"And you're supposed to mediate," Riker said confidently. At least this talk of factions and issues and Federation membership sounded utterly familiar. But Picard smiled a little.

"Not quite – not this time. A mission specialist will be coming aboard at Starbase 208. We are to provide an immaculate backdrop, and to demonstrate that the Federation takes Yalnrag's concerns seriously. There may be a few diplomatic functions, a goodwill tour – that sort of thing."

Riker frowned at that, and Picard asked immediately: "Problem, Number One?"

"Well, it's just that Deanna was going to ask for shore leave. Apparently a distant relative has died recently, a kind of godfather, and she's expected to return home and take part in some ritual. Something to do with Betazoid tradition."

The captain considered this for a couple of seconds. "I don't see why not," he said at length. "We have this very capable specialist coming aboard who will be responsible for most of the negotiating. Which reminds me," he added, hitting a couple of keys on his desk terminal. "She is from Ruylan II. A member of one of their ruling families. And although we have been asked not to take this too seriously, there have been a few vague threats against the mission specialist from a radical sect on Yalnrag."

"She'll bring a kind of honor guard along, I suppose," said Riker. "Don't they always have some sort of entourage?"

„Normally, yes. It's a very protocol-conscious culture. In this case, according to the mission details, we are apparently dealing with a very independent individual. Will, under the circumstances I'd like to assign Worf as a personal honor guard. It should please her and reassure the authorities on Yalnrag, and it shouldn't be too much extra work for Worf."

"Not that he'd mind." Riker frowned. "What did you say her name is?"

"I didn't. She's Lady Mallien Lyet'Eltaun Anthura Mal'Tyr-Aurell."

Riker swallowed. "Malliell what? – I'll look it up," he added hastily before the captain could answer. "If that is all, I'll start working on the particulars. It'll let Worf hone his diplomatic skills too. I'll see if there's any problem with the assignment."

"Make it so, Will." Picard smiled up at him as Riker got out of his chair. "And if you could put the relevant details together for me – "

"Certainly, sir."

Riker left the ready room with a spring to his step. He didn't know of anybody who had ever been to Yalnrag. And unless he had utterly misinterpreted the captain's expression Picard was pleased with their new assignment too. Now all he had to do was inform Stellar Cartography and Astrophysics that their assignment had just changed from collecting more data on the Golvani sector to analyzing what they had found, read up on Yalnrag's problems and Ruylian custom and etiquette, assign quarters, sketch a mission timetable, and provide the captain with an outline of all of it. _All in a day's work_. Then he noticed the air of suppressed expectation on the bridge. The young woman manning the Conn looked at him curiously. Data at Ops appeared dispassionate, but Riker knew better. Worf, towering over the center well, was going through the motions of aligning something on his console. The first officer stopped in his tracks and looked from one face to the next, enjoying himself. Then he cleared his throat.

"Ensign, set a course for Starbase 208. Warp five."

"Course laid in, sir," replied Zikalala after a moment.

"Engage." Riker made for the turbolift door, then stopped, halfway up the ramp. From behind the Tactical console Lieutenant Worf was looking at him expectantly.

"We've been given a new assignment. Diplomatic mission to Yalnrag. We're picking up a zoologist – she'll be looking into the gahyak problem."

"The ngahyak problem, sir," corrected Worf, checking a few readings.

Riker's jaw dropped. "What did you say?"

"Ngahyak, Commander. Not gahyak."

"How do _you_ know?"

"It was in the bulletins... sir," said Worf, looking slightly surprised in his turn.

"Ah. Yes." _That wasn't really necessary, Lieutenant_, thought Riker sourly as he turned back towards the forward stations. „I'm going to get the preparations under way. You have the bridge, Data."

**- - - - - **


	2. Chapter 2

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 01**

Half an hour later Commander Riker cleared the screen of his private monitor and stretched his back. The mission details were straightforward enough, but his pride was still smarting from the exchange with Worf. _Trust him to actually _read_ that claptrap_, he thought, exasperated. _I bet he enjoyed telling me–_

The door chime interrupted his musings. "Yes," he called, swiveling his chair to face the visitor.

"Will?" said Counselor Deanna Troi, poking her head into his living room. "May I come in? I've heard we have a new assignment."

"Yes, we have. You can still take your shore leave – it sounds pretty straightforward, and we're taking a mission specialist along. I asked the captain about it, and he says it's all right."

"Thank you, Will." She walked over to sit on the edge of his desk, smiling at him. "Is it something I'll be sorry to miss?"

„Well," he admitted, „it sounds interesting. We've been asked to travel to Yalnrag and help them sort out their differences over the ngahyak."

„The what?" asked Deanna.

„The ngah-" He interrupted himself as an idea occurred to him. "The ngahyak," he repeated. "Look, you must have read about it. It's all over the place. The last four issues of the _Starfleet Bulletin_ have been full of it."

"Oh, really," she said, sounding unimpressed.

Riker sat up. "_Really_, Deanna," he said, a certain amount of indignation in his voice. "We're supposed to keep up to date on Starfleet business. That's the whole point of the bulletins. You're not telling me you didn't even _look_ at them?"

"No," Deanna replied flatly. "I'm afraid I didn't. I don't, as a rule. Nobody does. You're not telling me _you_ are reading those things? Not even the captain reads them as far as I know."

Riker slumped back into his chair. "He doesn't?" _Damn_. "Well," he added sourly, under his breath, "he made a good job of hiding it, then. Anyway, Worf does – I know _that_ much."

"Really?" said Deanna, eyebrows rising. "Oh, well, he always was a bit obsessive. So who's my replacement for the trip?"

"Someone from Ruylan II." Riker grinned somewhat sheepishly. "Royalty of sorts – the captain wants to assign Worf as a personal honor guard. I was about to have a look at her ID when you turned up."

"May I?" He nodded, and she swiveled the monitor towards herself and tapped a couple of keys. "There. Lady Sul-Riel Mallien Lyet'Eltaun vegor'Altiris – "

"It's not as bad as that," interrupted Riker, who had been watching her expression with growing hilarity. "The informal version is only about half as long."

"Dweller among the Exalted, Second to the Ruler of the Dome of – my God, Will, she sounds like someone my mother would like to know. How much more of this – " She tapped the key a few more times, rapidly. "Ah. That's _much_ more like it. Cultural taboos observed – none. Special dietary requirements – none. Personal interests – music, architecture, exomythology, cookery. _Cookery_!" She looked up for a moment, her eyes sparkling. "Well, that's one thing at least you'll have in common. And she – " Her face fell abruptly. "Oh. Oh, dear. Will, forget about assigning Worf as her honor guard."

"Why's that?"

"She has a tribble," said Deanna.

"She has a what?"

"A tribble. A pet tribble. She takes it with her on assignments. It says here, under _Requirements_, that she needs accommodation for one tribble."

"She has a tribble?!"

"Wait," said Deanna. "Don't even think it. You can't do that."

"Can't do what?" inquired Riker, blue-gray eyes luminous with innocence.

"You're planning something awful. I can _hear_ you. Poor Worf. You're not really thinking of saddling Worf with that tribble?"

"That's a great idea," Riker said thoughtfully. "Really, Deanna – now that you've mentioned it, I think I'll do just that."

"Stop it," Deanna said sharply. "You can't. He doesn't deserve that. And just because he _does_ read the bulletins – "

"Oh, come, Deanna. I mean, just how long could it last? A day or two. Just a day or two of having to put up with a tribble. You wouldn't allow me to organise that surprise party for Worf, remember? Besides, it was the captain's idea to assign him."

"He wouldn't if he knew about the tribble," Deanna replied inexorably.

Riker groaned. "Right. Granted. He'd worry about Worf's peace of mind. Just possibly the tribble's too. Hey, Worf's my best friend, remember? And there's about a hundred and eighty kilos of him. That should be a match for one savage, vicious tribble. Come on, Deanna," he pleaded. "I'll keep an eye on this. I won't let it get out of hand. I promise. You owe me, you know? And you won't even be around to see it."

"That's what I'm worried about." She was frowning. "You promise?"

"I promise. I'll watch over the lot of them. I'll stop it the moment it goes too far. Just don't go out of the way to tell the captain, right?"

Deanna was looking sceptical, but after a moment she gave a brief nod. "Very well. He'll find out soon enough, you know."

Riker sighed. "S'pose so. Thank you anyway – you're a trooper, Deanna."

"I know _that_." For a moment they smiled at each other.

"I'll tell you all about the... interaction... when you're back," vowed Riker.

"I'm counting on it. Oh, and Will..."

"Yes?"

"The... well, the moment of first contact. Try to be there."

"I'll make it a priority," said Riker, solemnly.

**x ****x x **

Nine hours and twenty-eight minutes later the _Enterprise_ had docked in the huge hangar of Starbase 208, and Commander Riker was escorting Deanna Troi to the transporter room.

„The _Sloane_ leaves for Sygor IV in a few hours," she explained. „They'll be picking up a team of scientists. I'll easily find some transport to Betazed from there. – I'll bring back a jar of oskoids for you," she promised as the door swished open in front of them. „Real ones."

„And I'll look out for the Yalnrag variety of chocolate," he replied, nodding to the technician manning the transporter console. „Oh, and give my love to your mother."

„I'll certainly do _that_." She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. „Don't be too hard on Worf. Or that poor little creature." And with that she mounted the transporter platform, gave him one last conspiratorial smile, and said: „Energize."

Riker grinned back and watched her dissolve in a column of glittering light. He was about to turn and leave the transporter room when Chief Brossmer said: „Commander, there's a transmission from the starbase."

„Let's hear it."

„Greetings, _Enterprise_," a very young-sounding male voice said over the comm system. „We've got someone here asking to be beamed aboard. Special emissary..." The voice paused, then continued, carefully and a little haltingly: „Special emissary Mallien Lyet-Eltaun Mal'Tyr-Aurell."

„Stand by." Riker's hand was going to his commbadge even as he found himself thinking: _That wasn't even _half_ the name_. „Riker to – " At the last moment he stopped himself. Picard was off shift – had been off shift for hours. For all he knew the captain might be sound asleep by now. _What the hell. If she wants to come aboard ahead of schedule, well, let's do this the informal way_. „All right, Starbase. We're ready to receive her."

"Right, _Enterprise_," said the voice. "Transporting now."

Riker had never met a Ruylian. Diplomatic relations with Ruylan II were cordial, but direct contact was limited largely to the usual exchange of ambassadors, cultural attachés and the like. The relevant Federation database had provided him with a lot of detail which he had perused in a hurry, just to make sure there were no major difficulties ahead. It was therefore with a certain amount of pleasant anticipation that he watched the column of light on the transporter pad coalesce into a discernible shape.

Neither was he disappointed. The envoy was... arresting. Almost as tall as Riker himself and so slim she looked fragile, the Lady Mallien Lyet'Eltaun Anthura Mal'Tyr-Aurell was a pearly-skinned woman with a shining mane of pale silvery gold cascading onto her shoulders from behind the bony ridge running across her head from ear to ear, almost like a diadem. The eyes, set under smaller ridges that met to form a delicate V shape over the nose, were large, slanting and colored a dull lavender. An almond-shaped bony protuberance in the center of her forehead enclosed a little dent tinted the same color. She was wearing a pale gray pantsuit, its long close-fitting tunic setting off a figure any human woman might have envied. A small suitcase was next to her, and on top of the suitcase rested a container made of some kind of silver mesh. The first officer felt his eyes lock on to this for a brief moment before he stepped forward and extended his hand.

"Welcome aboard, Emissary. I'm the first officer, Commander William Riker. Captain Picard is off shift at the moment, so if you'll allow I'll show you to your quarters."

"Thank you, Commander." She stepped gracefully off the pad and returned his handshake; hers was firm enough for him to steal a glance downwards and notice her narrow pearl-colored wrist and the long, beautifully shaped fingers. The knuckles of her hand were ridged too, with tiny dents rather like the one on her forehead and tinted the same shade of lavender. As he released her hand she turned back towards the transporter and removed the small container (which, he now realized, had a handle like an antique cosmetics box), just in time for him to take the suitcase. _Perfect timing_, he thought. _Years of practice_. He led the way to the door under the interested and faintly amused eyes of Transporter Chief Brossmer; once outside in the corridor the envoy fell into step beside him.

"I hope I did not inconvenience you," she said, her voice low and throaty with a hint of a rasp to it. "My arrival may have been somewhat premature, and I am afraid my reasons are utterly selfish. I have seen many starbases, but I have never been aboard a Galaxy-class ship."

Riker grinned. "That excuse should win you the hearts of everybody aboard, Emissary. It's no trouble at all. We'll be on our way as soon as we have sorted out some cargo handling, and I'm sure the captain will be delighted to show you round. I'm just doing the honors for now. In fact we were quite prepared for a larger group."

"The entourage? I used to have one, Commander, many years ago. After a while it became irritating, then an actual nuisance. I found that it is not conductive to work to have a protocol master, an honor guard and a personal attendant trailing after you at all times."

"At _all_ times?" repeated Riker.

"Whenever I was conducting business with outsiders, thus, as far as I was concerned, at all _relevant_ times." She gave him a quick amused smile that for an instant revealed a pair of small white fangs. He suddenly felt quite certain that the perfectly manicured nails of those beautiful hands would grow into vicious little talons if allowed to. "As you can tell, I am very fond of my profession."

They were entering the turbolift as she spoke, and he noticed her quick appraising glance round. „Deck eight," he said, and then he drew a breath. He had memorized this, he reminded himself – or at least he had done his damnedest. "Lady Mallien Lyet'Eltaun Anth-"

"Please, Commander," she interrupted. "_Tyr-Aurell_ will do perfectly well."

Riker was caught completely off guard. "Er... I beg your pardon?"

"Tyr-Aurell," she repeated serenely. "The naming customs of the Ruylian aristocracy are rather complex, as I'm sure you noticed. Etiquette is a lovesome thing in many respects, but in practical diplomacy it can also be somewhat cumbersome – another thing I learned early in my career. _Tyr-Aurell_ happens to strike a convenient balance between the formal and the familiar. It also has the added merit of being pronounceable.

"This," said Riker, "is where I admit to a certain sense of relief."

She shot him another amused look from under a double row of silvery lashes several shades darker than her hair. Her irises, he noticed, were not circular but almond-shaped, the lavender darkening to a plum color towards the center. The first officer mentally amended his first assessment from _arresting_ to _stunning_. "I thought you might, Commander," she said rather dryly. "I beg your pardon – I interrupted."

"I was going to say that I am delighted to have met you, and that I am looking forward to this mission," Riker replied promptly. "May I ask if this" – he indicated the container she was carrying – „is what eventually replaced your entourage?"

"It is precisely that. It takes up far less of the time and space I have available on diplomatic missions, and it usually provides more agreeable company."

"Talking of – " began Riker just as the turbolift came to a halt. Outside in the corridor he said: "In actual fact we assigned you a personal honor guard. Of course we'll revoke this if you would prefer us to, but the situation on Yalnrag appears to be a little volatile – and he certainly won't be _trailing after_ you," he added. "These are the quarters we've set aside for you. The entry keypad will be coded to you after the first time you use it." The door slid open. He entered, called up the lights, and put the suitcase down just inside the door, noticing with satisfaction the huge arrangement of fresh flowers that had been placed on the table at his instigation. Tyr-Aurell was looking round with obvious delight.

"Commander, this is palatial. What is this, an admiral's suite?"

"Mission specialist's quarters, actually." Riker found himself grinning again in response to her enthusiasm. "I'm sure we could move you to an admiral's suite if you would like us to. There's the comm panel and the replicator; we've programmed in a few Ruylian dishes. If you prefer company with your food, Galaxy-class ships have a crew lounge on deck ten, and ours is supposed to be rather special." He was leading the way to the bedroom as he spoke, looking round for another piece of equipment he had specifically requested and stepping aside for her to see it. There was a flat padded box sitting on a shelf, just large enough for a small animal. She spotted it immediately, and gave a chuckle of delight. "Do you ever miss anything, Commander?"

"We aim to please," replied the first officer, quite pleased himself. She put the container down on a small table, opened the lid, and produced a silvery ball of fur the size of a large grapefruit. The creature started purring the moment it was lifted out of its box. Riker came closer, intrigued, and the purring stopped for a second and then started again. He had a feeling that he was being watched, even though there was neither a head nor any indication of eyes. Tyr-Aurell smiled. "They are very friendly creatures. Would you like to hold it?"

"Er – yes, I'd like to try," Riker said somewhat dubiously, extending his hands. She put the tribble into them. It fell silent immediately; he felt its many tiny feet moving around, tickling him, before it settled into his palms and promptly resumed its purring. "Nobody ever called them intelligent, of course," Tyr-Aurell added matter-of-factly. "You mentioned an honor guard, Commander. Would you explain what kind of honor guard?"

"Well, it's just that the political situation on Yalnrag looks a little unstable. I am sure you must have heard about the threats from some splinter groups. We have been asked not to take them too seriously, but the fact remains. When the captain heard that you wouldn't bring an entourage he suggested that our Chief of Security, Lieutenant Worf, might step in. He's a one-man security squad, and a very impressive presence. You wouldn't have anything to worry about on that planet."

Tyr-Aurell was looking intrigued. "But Commander – isn't your Chief of Security a Klingon?"

"Yes. He's the only Klingon in Starfleet. Would that be a problem?"

"Not for me – although admittedly I wouldn't have thought this necessary. I appreciate Captain Picard's kindness and concern, though. But I was thinking that it might quite conceivably be a problem for your Chief of Security."

"Really?" Riker looked up from the tribble, which by now had settled comfortably into the crook of his arm, with limpid innocence. "I can't imagine it would. Worf can handle anything. He's rather proud of it, in fact."

"Well." She was looking somewhat doubtful. "I must admit, it's a tempting offer. I find the Klingon culture quite fascinating. On the other hand I do know that Klingons are supposed to be a little, well, _allergic_ to tribbles. At the very least I should mention this to the captain."

"Oh, but – ," Riker began, seeing his beautiful plan go up in smoke before it had had a chance to unfold. And then, all of a sudden, enlightenment came, and for a moment he just stood there, awestruck. She'd just given him the perfect opening. It wasn't going to get any better than this.

_I can't just let this pass. It's too good. It would be flying in the face of destiny. I'll make amends afterwards __– I swear I will. But not even Deanna could expect me to – _

His conscience had something to say to this, he was quite sure of that. He'd be listening later. For now –

"Is anything wrong, Commander?" asked Tyr-Aurell, sounding concerned. And Riker took the plunge.

"No, nothing at all. It's just... well, you mentioned the word _allergic_. Lieutenant Worf will be all right, really. It's the captain." He paused. "You see, Emissary, I never told him of your tribble. Not sure I should bring this up," – well, _that_ was the truth anyway – "he's very embarrassed by the fact. But the thing is, he does happen to be allergic to pets. It's quite... quite a severe allergy, actually. It is unfortunate as he is very fond of animals. I thought I might as well spare his feelings. Of course, if you feel that it should be brought to his notice – after all, there _is_ the possibility that Lieutenant Worf may not take to your tribble – "

"Commander," interrupted Tyr-Aurell, earnestly. "Please, you needn't say any more. I understand. I'm so sorry. And I concur – under the circumstances it would be unforgivable to bring this up unless we absolutely have to. I very much appreciate your telling me, and I promise I won't mention my pet to the captain."

"Are you sure – ?"

"Absolutely. I am very glad I know about it. It won't be any problem whatsoever."

"Thank you," Riker said with a heartfelt sigh of relief. "If you truly feel this won't cause you any inconvenience – he would never forgive me, you see."

"None whatsoever. This is all quite touching," she said, giving him a warm smile. The first officer was aware of a certain sense of foreboding. _Wonder what he'll say when he learns of this_. He firmly dismissed the feeling, gave a modest little shrug implying _All in a day's work_, and smiled back conspiratorially. Then he plucked the quietly purring tribble out of the crook of his elbow and handed it back to her.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll get back to business now. I'm looking forward to this assignment," he added, quite sincerely.

"So am I." She saw him to the door. "And I'm very much looking forward to meeting both your captain and my honor guard."

"You won't be disappointed," promised Riker, and left with a feeling both of vague guilt and of distinct exhilaration.

**x ****x x **


	3. Chapter 3

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 02**

Captain Picard activated the door alarm of Tyr-Aurell's quarters some hours later, and had to wait for a couple of seconds before a voice replied: „Come in." When the door opened the mission specialist was just emerging from the next room. „I hope I'm not intruding," said the captain, a little concerned, as he came forward into the living room.

"Not at all. I've been putting some things away," she replied. "Captain, I am delighted to be on your ship."

"Welcome aboard, Emissary. Jean-Luc Picard."

"Thank you, Captain. And I am Tyr-Aurell," she said, watching Picard's face. He never missed a beat.

"Tyr-Aurell it shall be," he replied instead with impeccable pronunciation. "I trust you will tell my crew if there is anything you require or would like altered. May I ask what your plans are at the moment?"

"I would dearly like to see your ship," she replied promptly.

"I thought you might. If now would be a convenient time – "

"Now would be delightful. The computer tells me it is ship's morning. Well, as far as I am concerned it is afternoon, and I have had about as much rest as I can bear at this time of day."

"Then I'll make sure we end up in the lounge after the tour, in time to watch casting-off. It is really quite spectacular."

"I wouldn't want to miss it," she replied before the captain could remember that she, too, must have spent much of her time on starships, and might not be as continually entranced by the sight as he was. "Where will we start – on the bridge?"

"With pleasure," he replied, letting her precede him out of the room.

The bridge looked strangely empty, with both Riker's and Troi's chairs vacant and Tactical unattended. The main viewscreen showed the vast interior of the hangar, with an Excelsior-class starship docked nearby. Lieutenant Worf rose out of the center chair when he heard the turbolift door swish open. "Captain."

Picard acknowledged the greeting with a nod. "Emissary, this is my Chief of Security, Lieutenant Worf – your honor guard for the duration of your stay on Yalnrag. Lieutenant, let me introduce Starfleet's special emissary for this mission, the Lady Tyr-Aurell."

Worf pulled himself up to something like attention. Tyr-Aurell smiled, showing her tiny fangs; then, unexpectedly, she said: "Nuq neH Sogh Worf."

Picard caught the quick surprised look his security chief gave him at that. For a moment Worf seemed to be on the brink of correcting her; then he apparently changed his mind, answering instead with a polite "Nuq neH Duy'a'neS." Tyr-Aurell laughed out at that, a clear sound curiously underlaid with something that sounded like a throaty purr.

"Lieutenant, I am delighted to make your acquaintance, and I trust you'll forgive my poor attempts at speaking your language."

"I am honored by your effort, Emissary," replied Worf with cautious approval.

"The lieutenant has been doing some research into the Yalnragian situation – what little we know of it," Picard said. "He'll brief you on his conclusions later."

"I'm looking forward to it," Tyr-Aurell replied with what sounded like genuine enthusiasm. Worf gave her a nod and strode up the ramp towards his station, leaving the center well to the captain and his guest.

"This is normally Lieutenant Commander Data's station. At the moment we don't exactly need an Ops manager here, and he is currently overseeing things in the cargobays... I'm afraid you're not catching us at our most hospitable," said Picard, which earned him a delighted giggle.

"That's a charming way of saying that I chose an impossible time for my arrival, Captain. I sincerely trust you'll tell me when you have better things to do than show me around."

About two hours later Tyr-Aurell stopped just inside Ten-Forward, looked across at the large front windows and the vista beyond, and said: "This is magnificent."

"Many members of the crew would name this as their favorite view," Picard said with a very slight smile.

The envoy turned to him. "Captain, let me thank you for taking all this trouble. I enjoyed every minute of it, and this – this is simply breathtaking. Did you say that we would be able to watch your ship leaving from here?"

Picard was about to answer when he noticed a small figure with a very large burgundy hat emerging from behind the bar and making its way towards them.

"Emissary, I would like to introduce Guinan to you. She looks after Ten-Forward, and many other things. Guinan, this is the Lady Mallien Lyet'Eltaun Anthura Mal'Tyr-Aurell, our mission specialist for Yalnrag."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Emissary," said Guinan, looking up from under the brim of her hat with her peculiar smile. "I've reserved you a table – over there, by the center window."

"Thank you," replied Tyr-Aurell. "Tell me, did the captain make arrangements for this before I even knew it?"

"Well, not exactly," said Guinan, leading the way to the table in question. "I just assumed you would be coming this way sooner or later."

Tyr-Aurell stole a look at Picard, but the captain appeared both unsurprised and entirely innocent. A few crew members were looking up from their drinks to watch them with interest; someone nodded a brief greeting on meeting the captain's eye. Tyr-Aurell concluded that Picard didn't usually spend much of his time here.

"Are you going to have a meal in here?" asked Guinan while they took their seats. "I think they did a very good job with programming Ruylian paté into the replicators."

"Very well," said the captain, taking the cue. „I'll try some of that."

"Do you serve plomeek soup?" asked Tyr-Aurell.

"We certainly do," Guinan replied, smiled at both of them, and disappeared.

"How delightful," commented Tyr-Aurell, settling into her chair with catlike grace. "I rather like Vulcan cooking. Unfortunately it is regarded as something of an abomination on my own homeworld. Captain, lest I forget to mention – "

"Riker to captain," a voice came over the intercom. "Sir, it seems everything and everybody is aboard, and we've got clearance from the starbase. We could be on our way the moment you give the word."

"Make it so, Number One," Picard said to the ceiling.

"Wouldn't you normally oversee this yourself?" asked Tyr-Aurell.

"Normally, yes," the captain replied composedly. "I have every faith in my first officer to get us out of here without ramming the hangar doors, though. You were going to say?"

"I was going to say how much I appreciate your assigning Lieutenant Worf as my honor guard. Frankly, Captain, I cannot imagine that I will be in any actual danger on Yalnrag, but working with a Klingon should be a unique experience. I like Klingon poetry, as it happens, and I have done some research into their society."

"You should have won his esteem already by addressing him in his own language."

"Well," she said dryly, "some small part of it perhaps. I seem to remember that you are fluent in Klingon, Captain, so I doubt he was very impressed by my efforts. By the way, which part of it did I get wrong?"

Picard found himself smiling in spite of himself. "The order of rank and name should have been reversed."

"Oh, I see!" she said, visibly committing the detail to memory. Then a waiter appeared with their orders, and Tyr-Aurell dipped her spoon into her soup with an expression of anticipation. Outside, the brightly lit windows in the hangar walls were beginning to recede as the ship backed off, and a small crowd of spectators was gathering at the window to starboard. "That's the new _Copernicus_ over there," a voice said excitedly, and then was lowered as the speaker realized the close proximity of the captain and his guest. "Just out of the yard. Hey, we're turning!"

"Is that common practice, or is your first officer doing this for your benefit?" asked Tyr-Aurell excitedly.

Picard smiled. "He certainly had to get special permission to do a full turn inside a hangar, but the targeted audience is more likely to be you than me, Emissary."

"I feel I am being spoiled," she said, and quickly swallowed several more spoonfuls while a small Oberth-class vessel and an alien craft with dramatically upswept nacelles swung by. Picard quietly decided to have a word with his first officer afterwards. Will was most definitely showing off, and doing it in grand style. By now no doubt every window opening into the hangar was crowded with people watching the flagship leave. The massive doors came into view, just sliding open into blackness, and the _Enterprise_ dipped gracefully as she headed towards them. The hatch rushed towards them, and then suddenly it was past, lights flashing by on either side. The captain could tell the precise moment the impulse engines sprang to life once the ship was clear. Tyr-Aurell craned her neck as if to catch a glimpse of the huge structure of Starbase 208 falling behind, but the ship was heading up and dead away from it, gaining speed as it went. For a second the greenish-blue atmosphere of Ennan VII could be seen dimly gleaming to port, then the _Enterprise_ had completed her long curve out of the system, and beneath his feet Picard felt the almost imperceptible thrum of the warp engines powering up. _Engage_, he thought. The stars beyond the window exploded into a blinding vortex of light, then dimmed to bright bolts streaking past. The captain drew a deep breath. _So. We're on our way_ –

"You're not eating, Captain," Tyr-Aurell said gently, and Picard tore himself away with a little start.

"I'm sorry. I..." He looked down at the untouched food on his plate, then across at her empty bowl, then up. There was a distinctly amused expression in the slanting lavender eyes. "I apologize," he said finally, quite unable to keep a note of slightly embarrassed amusement out of his own voice, and took up his fork.

"Please don't. It was delightful to watch," she replied with a twinkle. Before he could decide what exactly she was referring to she continued: "By the way, this soup is delicious. I've eaten worse on Vulcan itself. I'm sure there must be Vulcans among your crew."

He nodded. "Eighteen of them currently. But Guinan is very particular about everything served in this lounge. Emissary, I apologize again; I wasn't doing this justice."

"I'm glad you like it. Food is something of a hobby of mine, and frankly, I find myself beginning to hope that this mission won't be over too soon."

Picard smiled. "It will take us six days to get to Yalnrag alone, and from what I've heard of – "

As if on cue, Riker's voice came over the intercom. "Riker to captain. Sir, I have Admiral Blackwell on subspace. She wants a word with you."

"On my way." The captain put his fork down with an air of resignation. "Excuse me for the moment. I will see you at the mission briefing at the latest."

"Until tomorrow, then," she replied graciously, watching as he got to his feet, gave his uniform tunic a quick tug, and made his way towards the door.

Riker was pacing in front of the large bridge viewscreen. "I've put her through to your ready room, sir," he said as the turbolift deposited Picard on the bridge.

"Thank you, Number One."

The first officer watched the door slide shut in the captain's wake, and resumed his pacing. Behind the Tactical console, Worf was standing with feet apart and hands resting on the railing, his eyes on the starfield closing in on the main viewscreen, looking as relaxed as it was possible for him to look. Riker was aware of a twinge of conscience. _He hasn't met that tribble_, he thought. _And the captain has no idea that he's acquired a pet allergy overnight_. As he finally dropped into the center seat he even found himself wondering, briefly, if the gala show he had just put on had been an attempt to make amends to Picard. _I'll have to do better than that_, he thought uncomfortably_. I don't think anybody ever served him a trick like this_...

The captain's voice came over the intercom a minute later, interrupting his musings. "Number One, would you join me for a moment?"

„Sure. On my way. You have the bridge, Data."

Picard was sitting behind his desk with a padd in his hand, frowning at his private monitor. "Sit down, Will. I've just received an update and some friendly advice from Admiral Blackwell."

"Regarding our demeanor on Yalnrag?" inquired Riker, swinging one leg over the back of a chair and plopping into the seat.

"Regarding what we have to offer. If those animals are really threatened by extinction we are in a position to offer the people of Yalnrag sanctuary for them on that zoo planet, Brentalia. The FeCoPes has just announced that they're setting an island aside for the purpose."

"_Are_ they threatened by extinction?"

"The government of Yalnrag says they are not. Several other factions say they are. Take your pick." Picard looked at him a little ruefully. "There's another thing. Apparently the decision to send the _Enterprise_ has set off some of the more conservative elements. They have voiced the opinion that the government is using pressure in order to hustle Yalnrag into the Federation. There may be some delicate negotiating ahead." The captain put the padd down, got to his feet, and went over to the replicator. "Tea. Earl Grey, hot."

"For you or for the mission specialist?" asked Riker, looking on with a degree of appreciation that was quite lost on Picard. He loved these briefings in the ready room. There was something infinitely reassuring about listening to the captain discussing mission details over mugs of Earl Grey tea.

"Where it concerns Yalnrag's application for Federation membership, for me." Picard sat down again, mug in hand. "Don't mention this to Worf," he added with a slight smile.

"Why's th... oh, of course." Riker grinned. "_Delicate_ means _dangerous_."

"And I really want him to look after Tyr-Aurell. I'm beginning to suspect we should take those threats a little more serious after all." The captain took a thoughtful sip.

"It'll come up sooner or later, Captain, and then he _will_ make his views known. Oh, by the way – there's been a message from the A.S.A. for you as well. Coded personal." Riker made no attempt to keep a note of puzzlement out of his voice.

"Oh, dear," said Picard, putting the mug down and hitting a couple of keys on his terminal. The first officer watched him quickly glancing through the message, the slightly concerned expression gradually vanishing from his face. After a minute or so Picard cleared the screen and looked up.

"Nothing to worry about. Just a message to let me know how relieved they are that the _Enterprise_ has been entrusted with this... delicate matter."

Riker frowned. "What makes us preferable to other ships?"

"Quite possibly the fact that her captain is a member," Picard said wryly.

"A..." Riker gulped. "Of the Animal Sanctity Association? _You?_ That... Well," he added hurriedly, "I just had no idea. Begging your pardon, sir, it somehow didn't quite sound like your kind of thing to me."

"It isn't," Picard replied emphatically, with a slight shudder. "In fact, if I hadn't attended that Annual Admirals' Banquet –"

"The one eight years ago?" Riker made some very slight attempt to keep a note of incredulous delight out of his voice. "The last one you ever attended, sir? The one that finally decided you to find an... to be really busy that time of every year since? _That_ Admirals' Banquet?"

"Yes, Will, _that_ one," replied Picard with a touch of asperity. "No need to make a song and dance about it. – I suppose I might as well tell you," he added with a somewhat rueful twinkle. "Among the invited guests was... well, let's just say a man with a mission. For some reason we got into a conversation over the hors d'oeuvres buffet. The replicated salmon, I rather believe," he added, reminiscently. "I do remember that it was the food that set him off... He informed me at length about the A.S.A.'s goals. Its members hold the belief that the consumption of animal products is an abomination, and that includes the consumption of _replicated_ animal products. Not only is it harmful, physically as well as spiritually, it is indicative of a thorough lack of respect."

"I'm sure they'd given a _lot_ of thought to the question of what to serve on the occasion of the Admirals' Banquet," murmured Riker.

"If I know anything about it they had. Anyway, to cut the story of a very long evening short, when I realized that this particular conversation was likely to last me all through dinner up to and _including_ the replicated crème brulée –"

"You joined."

"Well." The captain was looking slightly sheepish. "I admit, after twenty minutes of it I felt that joining his organisation then and there would be preferable to spending the rest of the evening in his company."

"But Captain – _eight years_?"

Picard shrugged, a little helplessly. "I admit, I occasionally thought about leaving, but most of the time I simply forgot all about it. I'm sure there must be dozens of bulletins filed away somewhere. In fact," he said, brightening, „now might be a good time to terminate my membership."

"Actually, sir, I've just been thinking that it might even be helpful on this mission. After all, considering the status of the ngahyak on Yalnrag..."

The captain looked at him with a slight frown. Then he sighed. "You're probably right. As soon as this assignment is over, then."

"Would you like me to remind you of it, sir?" Riker asked gently.

Picard paused in the act of lifting his mug. "Yes," he said after a moment. „Please do."

- - - - - - - - -


	4. Chapter 4

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 03**

Lieutenant Worf had been informed that Special Emissary Tyr-Aurell was positive she would be adapting to ship's time without any trouble; he therefore made his appearance in the corridor outside her quarters at 09.45 the next morning. Neither was he disappointed: the „Enter" in response to his activating the door alarm came promptly and briskly. The door slid open to reveal a room lighted in soft amber. Tyr-Aurell was standing by a small table, by all appearances rearranging a bowl of flowers.

"Lieutenant Worf, I am delighted to see you. Are you going to escort me to the mission briefing?"

"At your convenience, Emissary," Worf replied politely as the door slid shut behind him. He took one more step into the room and froze. "What – "

"Lieutenant?"

"What is that sound?" asked Worf, looking round in alarm. A moment later he started back, aghast. Without warning a faint, shrill screeching rose from the floor, very close to where his boots had been a second earlier. He looked down, his eyes widening in incredulous disgust. "That – thing..."

Tyr-Aurell bent down quickly, picked up the silvery ball of fur, and settled it in the crook of her arm. It gave one last disapproving squawk and then fell silent.

"Lieutenant," she said earnestly, „I apologize for the discomfort my pet caused you. I'll make sure you won't be bothered by it again. Believe me, this encounter was quite unintended."

"I..." Worf was still striving for composure. "I beg your pardon – I was merely surprised." He ventured a look at the tribble, which was just beginning to purr softly again, and managed not to shudder. "Your pet does not bother me, Emissary."

"Well," she replied with a twinkle he couldn't quite interpret, "I am glad to hear you say so. But at the moment it's certainly not wanted" – and to his immense relief she deposited the creature on a chair a few steps away, and picked up a padd from the table in front of the sofa instead. "I believe we are due at the mission briefing in about eight minutes. Perhaps you could tell me a little of what your research has turned up on the way."

"I would be honored," replied Worf, and followed her out of the room with carefully measured steps. _The captain never mentioned this... thing_, he thought. Perhaps Picard didn't know about Klingons and tribbles? A moment later he dismissed the thought. In fact the captain knew quite a lot about Klingons in general, and one Klingon in particular – more, occasionally, than Worf liked to consider. _He trusts me to handle it_, he concluded with a surge of pride. So, naturally, he would.

The captain, Riker and Data were already present when Worf and Tyr-Aurell entered the conference lounge. She gave them a friendly smile, flashing her tiny fangs. "Captain. Commander."

"Let me introduce Lieutenant Commander Data, Emissary," Picard said. "Data, the Lady Mallien Lyet'Eltaun Anthura Mal'Tyr-Aurell."

"I have heard so much about you, Commander," said Tyr-Aurell. "I am delighted to be making your acquaintance."

"Thank you, Emissary," replied Data. "I find it intriguing that you have chosen to adopt an informal version of your name. Does this reflect a possible change of attitude towards matters of protocol on Ruylan II?"

"In my case, it only reflects the demands of practical diplomacy," Tyr-Aurell said serenely. Then Geordi La Forge and Doctor Beverly Crusher entered, and Picard went through the introductions once again. Finally the captain called the meeting to order. Tyr-Aurell settled gracefully into the chair on the captain's right with a rustle of mauve silk.

"Lady Tyr-Aurell has studied the circumstances we can expect to find on Yalnrag on the basis of the available facts – such as they are," explained Picard. "Emissary, please."

"My pleasure, Captain." Tyr-Aurell tapped a key in the conference table in front of her, and a faintly lavender-tinted planet covered largely by oceans appeared on the monitor. Picard swiveled his chair round as everybody else craned their necks.

"This is Yalnrag. As you can see the planet has only two continents and a number of archipelagoes. There has been a single planetary government for almost thirty years now, and the political situation is stable. That is to say, there is no immediate danger of a split." There was a hint of a purr creeping into Tyr-Aurell's voice, implying a certain amount of amusement. The image faded, and as one everybody turned back towards the table. "However, the government's recent overtures towards the Federation have re-fueled a debate that has been going on for decades." A brief pause. "I would like to show you a picture of a ngahyak now, but I cannot. No outsider knows what they look like, Yalnragians venturing abroad do not provide descriptions, let alone images, and no recordings have been allowed outside of Yalnrag. The animals play an important role in the faith of a number of religious groupings. Unfortunately they are migratory, requiring large areas of open countryside, and this has become somewhat more scarce in recent years – although from the statistics Yalnrag has supplied about its population and industrialization the loss doesn't appear to be dramatic. Still, with the recent renewal of religious fervor in parts of the population, the government is faced with a dilemma." Tyr-Aurell tilted her head, as if viewing the problem from a different angle. "You must understand that it is an immense honor to be allowed to study these animals. No outsider has ever been granted permission to do so. I don't believe the government would have objected, but there are the sensibilities of others to be considered. Please, be suitably impressed." The purr was back in her voice, even though her face remained perfectly straight.

"We will keep it in mind," promised Picard. "Are we to understand that the government of Yalnrag doesn't share the concern about the ngahyak to quite that degree? Admiral Blackwell strongly hinted that that might be the case."

"Frankly, Captain, I am under the impression that they would be happy to be allowed to forget all about the problem – one way or another. Ngahyak worship is common in certain rural areas and among a number of sects. The country people are usually quite moderate in their demands – they simply want the animals and their habitat protected, which would conveniently keep the ngahyak away from fields and gardens as well. The sects are the real problem. They are very diverse, ranging from small groups seeking spiritual guidance to organizations devoted to a kind of holy war. There is even an assassins' sect."

"_Assassins'_ sect?" echoed Beverly Crusher.

"That is what their name translates as, Doctor. The group was supposed to have been disbanded two generations ago, but in recent years there have been several assassination attempts, two of them successful, and the sect has taken responsibility for both of those. The government of Yalnrag is quite embarrassed by these incidents. In fact I doubt they would have mentioned the sect to us if it hadn't been for the danger it has proven to pose."

The captain stole a glance at Worf at that. The Klingon was nodding slowly to himself.

"So what, exactly, are we supposed to do there?" asked Crusher.

"We are to evaluate the situation, study the ngahyak, and make suggestions as to how the problem could be solved. If possible mediate a compromise between the government and those parts of the population who refuse to support the government in its attempts to join the Federation as long as the ngahyak question is unresolved."

"But you said the political situation is stable," Riker put in.

"It is. The government could simply overrule the objections of a few small groups. But the ngahyak do play a role in ancient beliefs, and although Yalnrag is a secular society these days its rulers are reluctant to resort to such methods."

"Well, it's an attitude I can sympathize with," said Doctor Crusher.

Tyr-Aurell inclined her head. "As I understand it the ruling council hopes that if the Federation is seen to take the fears and convictions of the populace seriously, and contribute to a workable solution, we will be that much closer to an agreement."

"What do the more radical sects want?" asked Riker.

"Some want people to turn back to a simpler and purer way of life, worshipping the ngahyak the way their forefathers did. I should add that ngahyak worship has never been the only or even the most important aspect of ancient Yalnrag faith, but it does seem to have become a focal point recently. It is certainly an aspect that is easily exploited, given the current problems with the animals."

"And what exactly is it the assassins' sect wants?" That was Worf's voice asking. Picard caught a brief amused glance from Riker, and kept his own expression carefully neutral. Tyr-Aurell, however, gave a quick appreciative smile.

"Power, I suspect, Lieutenant. Ostensibly, they are concerned about the purity of Yalnrag politics, especially concerning matters of faith. Both victims were politicians of a progressive turn of mind who welcomed contact with outsiders. Minor politicians – quite possibly because the more obvious targets were beyond the sect's reach."

"It is conceivable, then, that you will be in danger once you set foot on the planet," said Worf.

"Just conceivable," she admitted lightly. Worf's eyes narrowed slightly.

"And will you be conducting all the negotiations, Emissary?"

"That was certainly what was planned. In the light of recent events I believe your experience in similar matters may be called upon as well, Captain," she added. Picard saw Worf's eyes widening at that, and changed the subject with a skill born of years of practice.

"I don't think there will be any problems with that. Emissary, you have made the situation admirably clear, but there is one thing I'd be quite interested to know more about. What exactly is the role those animals play in traditional Yalnrag faith?"

"According to the available documents they are considered to be the guardians of the country, and to serve as intermediaries between mortals and the gods. Their migrations are their way of watching over all of Yalnrag. Strictly speaking the two continents are in fact just one as they are linked by a land bridge in the polar region. There are ngahyak populations in both continents. Apparently they were once supposed to cross the pole and go from continent to continent in order to fulfil their purpose. Harming a ngahyak, or even just hindering it, is considered a very bad omen. Attempts at studying them have been deemed close to insult until fairly recently."

"I suppose that may have contributed to the problem as much as anything else," Crusher put in.

"It has, Doctor. I will be conducting my studies with the assistance of local scientists. It will be a historic event." Tyr-Aurell smiled. „In fact," she said, „I'm looking forward to it."

"Is there anything else?" asked the captain.

"Yes, sir," said Worf. "Under the circumstances I would suggest assigning a security detail to the emissary."

"That may not be advisable," replied Tyr-Aurell. "We are being granted a privilege, Lieutenant. The more people we have down there, the more likely it is there will be some incident."

"I understand," said Worf, curtly, and the captain nodded.

"Then that will be all for the moment. We'll reconvene as and when new information becomes available."

It didn't escape Picard that Worf walked past him with a long look and a slight frown. _I'll hear from him_, he thought. Riker hadn't even bothered getting to his feet; he had merely swiveled his chair so he faced the captain. When the door had swished shut behind the last of the senior officers the captain said: "Well, Number One? What do you make of it?"

"Sounds fairly straighforward, actually. I hope the sight of those animals is worth all the mystery."

"According to Admiral Blackwell rumor describes them as looking like a cross between a gnu and a large rabbit. Bluish", added the captain.

Riker tilted his head, considering it. "Different," he said at last before lapsing into another silence. "Bit hard to visualize, actually. Captain, I wasn't going to mention it just now, but if there is any chance that you'll be going down to the surface you'll need to be inoculated. Doctor Crusher says some of that planet's diseases could make a real mess of a human system. She'll give Tyr-Aurell an appointment too."

"I see. You know, Will, I'm considering a formal dinner for her. It seems to be the appropriate thing to do, and she could meet the exobiology staff. And perhaps someone from Cultural Sociology."

"Great," said Riker with unfeigned enthusiasm. "Ito'll just love her. Wasmuth, too. If you'd like me to I'll get to it straight away."

Picard smiled a little at his eagerness. "Make it so, Number One."

**- - - - - - - - -**


	5. Chapter 5

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 04**

"But Lieutenant," said Tyr-Aurell, "you'll be bored out of your mind."

"I do not think so. I will be doing my duty."

"And that precludes boredom?"

Worf frowned, not quite sure what she was getting at. The twinkle in her eyes suggested some kind of joke. Fortunately she continued without waiting for his answer.

"Very well. If your duty requires you to spend the entire time with the scientific team I'm not going to argue with you. You know best, Lieutenant."

"My captain gave me an assignment," Worf replied. "I will carry it out to the best of my abilities." Even now he was feeling uneasy with the statement. The possibility that the captain might be required to beam down to the planet's surface as well had been haunting him ever since it had been mentioned. Years ago, someone had told him that a true protector could have only one charge, and with time and experience he had learned to appreciate the wisdom of these words. The emissary gave him a brief smile.

"So, what has your research turned up?"

"The two successful assassinations were ritual murders carried out in the traditional manner. Both victims were considered lacking in respect towards the welfare of the ngahyak, and towards those advocating their cause. Unfortunately," said Worf, his carefully neutral tone of voice slipping a little, "it is difficult to determine what will be deemed a lack of respect. We know that the beasts must not be impeded in any way. They must not be disturbed or upset, and their guardians must not be hindered in their duties."

"Their _guardians_? I don't think I have heard about those," said Tyr-Aurell, sitting down on the sofa and indicating a chair opposite with a tiny gesture. Worf, however, remained on his feet, padd in hand, merely acknowledging the invitation with a brief nod.

"There is a sect," he said, hiding his own opinion so carefully that Tyr-Aurell was hard put not to laugh, "called the layghiar or Guardians. They accompany the ngahyak on their migrations in order to make sure the animals remain unmolested. We will have dealings with them once you embark upon your studies, Emissary. They are no warriors, but their devotion to those animals is absolute. Moreover, you will be studying the ngahyak during the mating season. It has just begun. There are additional rules to be observed at that time."

"I see," Tyr-Aurell said thoughtfully. „It would have helped if the government of Yalnrag had informed me earlier about these details."

"I agree. Apparently the layghiar are prepared both to kill and to die in the course of their chosen duty."

"They sound quite single-minded," observed Tyr-Aurell.

"They are fools," said Worf succinctly.

"But, Lieutenant, isn't their attitude an almost Klingon trait? I agree, the object of all this devotion may appear a little strange to you and me, but the willingness to kill and die for a cause should sound familiar to you."

Worf drew himself up a little. "With all due respect, Emissary, a Klingon chooses his cause with great care. An honorable venture or a leader worthy of a warrior's allegiance – those would be causes to die for. Preparing the way for a herd of animals is a waste of time."

"I'm sure they consider it a very honorable venture. As it happens, the future of an entire planet seems to be bound up with those animals." She smiled up at him. "We'll have to keep this in mind, at least. Now tell me how you intend to ensure the safety of the research team."

"I –" Worf interrupted himself, frowning. A faint trilling sound had caught his attention the moment she ceased speaking. He took two instinctive steps back, his whole frame stiffening with sheer disgust. A moment later he had found the source of the noise. The miserable fluffy thing was wandering in from the bedroom area, trailing silky fur, oblivious of everything but its immediate objective, whatever it might be. He shuddered involuntarily. The sound of its purring scraped up and down his backbone like that of broken glass on certain plastics. Gritting his teeth, he continued doggedly: "I have made sure that two members of the research team will be cross-trained as security personnel. They will be carefully briefed about the conditions they can expect to find on the surface. We will be conducting our work in a thinly-populated area, but during contact with the locals I will remain by your side. The Yalnragians understand the meaning of an honor guard," he added, putting a certain stress on the word _honor_. The tribble was making its way towards the sofa now, its purring gradually decreasing. Worf watched it from the corner of his eye, ready to get out of its way.

"We will be taking our own stores down to the surface. Food could be supplied by shuttlecraft from the nearest town, but the trouble would be considerable, and local foods would not agree very well with some humanoid species. Moreover, poison is considered an acceptable means of assassination."

Tyr-Aurell nodded, quietly putting out her foot to divert the tribble's course towards herself. "I see. You're doing a very thorough job, Lieutenant. Do you really believe there is any danger?"

"It is my duty to be prepared for eventualities like these," stated Worf, the image of the captain flitting through his mind again. "It is likely that they will give you a tour of the capital city, and possibly a formal dinner."

"Which you'll attend as well," she said with a brilliant smile.

"Naturally," he replied.

Tyr-Aurell cocked her head. "Lieutenant, since you won't sit down I am not going to keep you from attending to your duties any longer. But I would be delighted at an opportunity to ask you a few things about Klingon thought and custom I haven't quite worked out for myself. If you would be kind enough to enlighten me, that is."

Worf straightened. "I will be honored," he said, trying his best not to sound as pleasantly surprised as he felt, and turned towards the door. The tribble started purring again the moment the distance between them increased.

"Lieutenant," she called after him. „Before I forget – there's the shipboard dinner tonight, isn't there? Could you possibly tell me if there is a hairdresser on the _Enterprise_?"

Worf turned back. "There is. His name is Mot. I am certain that he will be delighted to serve you." Tyr-Aurell suddenly had a distinct feeling that the _Enterprise'_s security chief and Mr. Mot were not on the best of footings. In fact Worf seemed to be on the verge of adding something, but then he apparently thought better of it. "I will see you at the captain's dinner, Emissary," he said instead, with the slight inclination of his head he reserved for those he respected above the average, and took himself off.

Tyr-Aurell smiled after him; then she addressed the intercom.

"Tyr-Aurell to Mr. Mot."

After a second an important-sounding voice came back. "Mot here. Emissary, I am honored by your call. If there is anything my humble establishment can provide you with..."

"Well," she said, "I would very much appreciate it if you could give me an appointment today if at all possible. I need a haircut."

The enthusiasm in the voice went up a notch. "Nothing I'd like better, Emissary. Let me see – I'm a busy man, my schedule is quite full, but I'll do my best to accommodate you. Yes, I believe I can manage. There _has_ been a cancellation. Unfortunate, one might say, but under the circumstances I am delighted to be able to offer the slot to you, Emissary. Would you care to stop by within the next twenty minutes?"

"With pleasure. Thank you for rearranging your schedule, Mr. Mot. Tyr-Aurell out," she replied, signing off before he could go into renewed raptures.

When she entered the _Enterprise's_ barber shop some ten minutes later, the tribble sitting comfortably in the crook of her arm, she found it not as busy as Mr. Mot's attitude had been suggesting. "Wash, cut and dry, please," Tyr-Aurell said when he had found her a chair. "And do you think someone could trim my tribble for me? I know this is hardly a task for a master hairdresser, but –"

"Emissary!" Mr. Mot interrupted, deftly taking the creature from her. "Please, say no more. We will be honored, as Mr. Worf would say. My chief assistant will take personal care of your pet. What lovely silky fur. How would you like it trimmed? May I ask if you selected it to match the color of your own hair?"

"Actually, I did," she replied with a smile. "It seemed as good a reason as any. Just have the fur cut back to a reasonable length, please – as it is people are stepping on it. And I am told it will be quite warm on Yalnrag."

Mr. Mot waved imperiously to his assistant and handed him the quietly purring tribble. "You heard that? Give the lady's lovely pet a trim. A little shorter at the sides. – You may have full confidence in him, Emissary. He is a professional worthy of this establishment."

"I don't doubt it. And please, don't take off too much of _my_ hair. I like the length as it is."

"My dear lady!" Mr. Mot protested, shocked. "I wouldn't for the world do such a thing. Ruylian hair is so luxuriant, it would be a shame to cut it. Just a little bit off the top to get it back into shape. Would you like a treatment? I have just the thing. Brings back that shine, you understand – all those missions to all sorts of different atmospheres, it's a terrible strain on the hair. Now this is _beautiful_," he said, feeling a thick silvery strand. "You're used to frequenting the best establishments. I can tell. What is the most beautiful hair without the hand of a specialist to care for it? But you needn't worry. This is the flagship, Emissary. We wouldn't be afraid of being asked to be pitting our skills against anybody – anybody at all. May I suggest –"

"You know," Tyr-Aurell interrupted, sounding faintly amused, "you've just reminded me of something. Could I get a manicure as well while I'm here?"

"But certainly!" Mr. Mot replied, beaming. "I'll see to it personally as soon as I have attended to your hair. Would you like a beauty treatment as well? A colgonite astringent, perhaps? It's been said to work wonders on the complexion. Of course I know about the atmospheric conditions of Yalnrag. Devastating, let me tell you – devastating! If you would like to make another appointment once you return from the surface I'll be very happy to oblige you. Naturally they will be giving you a complete tour of the capital, _and_ a diplomatic dinner I'm certain. Very correct, very conscientious, the Yalnragians, or at least that's what they would like us to think. I hope they appreciate good hairdressing. It's –"

"Mr. Mot," said Tyr-Aurell, "I really appreciate your diligence, but you must understand that I am not about to impress the Yalnragians. I am merely trying not to disgrace the captain's dinner tonight."

"The dinner!" repeated Mr. Mot, clapping his hands together. "But... Emissary, I had no idea. Today? I have not been informed. So this is why Dr. Crusher came in yesterday. I see, I see! Now you mentioned it, I may have to refresh the captain's memory regarding _his_ appointment with me. I'm quite sure it was today. He would not want to miss it. A very busy man, the captain – tends to forget things if you don't remind him."

_Oh, dear_, Tyr-Aurell thought. _Captain, I apologize_. Aloud she said: "You know, he may be too busy to come. The possible difficulties ahead – I'm sure you understand. Sacrifices have to be made, sometimes."

Mr. Mot paused in the act of selecting a comb. "I am aware of that, Emissary – nobody could be more so. In fact I have been foreseeing it. In order to make it worth the captain's while, I have taken great care to supply myself with all relevant facts about Yalnrag. The captain will not consider the time he spends in this establishment wasted, I assure you. Take Yalnrag's strategic position, for example. It's pretty close to the Talarian border. Now if you look at recent encounters we've had with the Talarians – "

**- - - - - - - - -**

"Captain," said Worf, a note of doom in his voice.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Picard swiveled his chair to look up at his Chief of Security with a slightly quizzical expression. Riker, who had caught the implication as well, raised one eyebrow expectantly.

"There is a message for you. From Mr. Mot. Would you like me to relay it to your private monitor?"

"Caught," muttered Picard. "No. I'm afraid I know what it is."

"He's reminding you of an appointment," supplied Riker, his voice and expression a nice blend of sympathy and unholy glee.

"Yes. As usual. I suppose..." The captain's gaze swept the bridge – the serene order of things, the stars streaking past on the viewscreen, the members of his crew quietly minding their stations. He sighed. "I wonder if there isn't some imminent crisis. It might be unwise to leave the bridge just now."

"I'm sure we can manage," Riker said heartily. "You should take advantage of the opportunity, sir – you never know when it will come again."

"It seems I don't have a choice." Picard pulled himself out of his chair, tugging down his tunic with an air of resignation, and the first officer felt his heart melting. "It _has_ been suspiciously quiet," he said, deadpan. "I shouldn't be at all surprised if an urgent message came in – say, in about half an hour, Captain."

The captain allowed himself a wry little smile. "Almost any urgent message will be welcome, Number One. You have the bridge," he added, and left.

Data swiveled his chair to face a grinning Riker. "Commander, it seems to me that the captain was tempted to manufacture an excuse for missing his appointment. It also seems to me that you offered your aid in cutting short said appointment. The likelihood of a message of sufficient urgency is quite remote."

Worf muttered something under his breath that neither of the two could quite catch. "Well," said Riker, stroking his beard, "let's just say he doesn't exactly enjoy being at the mercy of Mr. Mot's conversational skills. You don't know how lucky you are sometimes, Data. If you hadn't given up that smalltalk subroutine I'd recommend a visit to Mr. Mot's, just to learn how not to do it."

"Actually," said Data, "I have not _given up_ my smalltalk studies. I merely postponed them. As a matter of fact I have been thinking of resuming them, Emissary Tyr-Aurell having mentioned that she was looking forward to _many a chat_, as she termed it. Thank you, Commander, I will take your suggestion under advisement."

"You're quite welcome," said Riker, stretching out his legs and resisting the temptation to look up and meet Worf's eyes.

The captain soon discovered that Mr. Mot had been rehearsing his topics. "So they're beginning to feel uncomfortable with their neighbours," the barber announced the moment Picard had taken a seat. "I'm not surprised. The Talarians have stopped bothering Federation outposts, so the Yalnragians think they'll be next, and they want us to protect them. I wonder what they have to offer the Federation. We should be very careful there. The Romulans have an interest in that area too. We wouldn't want them to start another war over one planet, would we? What we want to do –"

Picard made a conscious effort to disassociate his thoughts, sliding into the slight daze which he had found to be the one workable refuge from the incessant drone of Mr. Mot's lecture. He had been wondering before just how long it could take anybody to give him of all people a haircut. Today the procedure seemed particularly interminable – possibly because he briefly snapped out of his reverie some time later to discover that tactical advice wasn't Mr. Mot's only subject of the day.

"The Lady Tyr-Aurell has just left," the barber informed him with the air of one divulging an important piece of information. "A lovely woman – someone who will only accept the best. I trust she will be satisfied with my efforts. Such beautiful hair, too. A wonderful color, and natural, quite natural – anybody might have suspected the hand of a master _coiffeur_ there. I admit, for a moment even I had my doubts when I saw that charming creature. The color correspondence is amazing – quite amazing. She informs me it is deliberate. Remarkable style. Naturally, I gave it into the capable hands of my assistant. I don't consider myself above fancy work by any means, but the lady had to take precedence over the tiger, so to speak. How many more days to Yalnrag? Four? Well, that should give everybody time to decide how far we can safely go. With the Romulan presence we want to keep in mind that – "

_An hour_, thought the captain, some other part of his brain wondering at the same time if he had missed something. _The tiger?_ he found himself thinking. _Did he just say something about a tiger?_ Then he decided that he really couldn't be bothered, and by now Mr. Mot was definitely talking about Romulans – he recalled the term _Tal Shiar_ slipping past him._ That _must_ have been an hour by now. I can't have been sitting here for any less than that. Why _is_ it taking so long today?_

On the bridge, Riker was consulting the small monitors built into the armrests of the center seat as to the time. "Twenty-five minutes," he said softly, more or less to himself.

"Commander?" Worf's voice said from behind and above.

"I really believe twenty-five minutes is about as much as – " He stopped himself. "Worf, is there anything out of the ordinary going on anywhere on the ship? Anything at all?"

Worf checked his console. "There is nothing that could – wait. There _is_ something registering on the internal sensors. An unusual degree of humidity in the air of holodeck IV. Steam, Commander." Worf's voice sounded puzzled.

"Ah! Steam. I'd say that that's a bit disturbing, wouldn't you agree?"

"Actually, Commander –"

"Absolutely." The first officer addressed the intercom. "Riker to captain."

After a slight delay a voice came back. "Picard here. What is it, Number One?"

"Sir, I'm really sorry to bother you, but Worf has just come across something very odd. It's quite disturbing in a way. You might want to see it for yourself."

"I'll be there in a minute,"" the captain's voice replied, sounding genuinely alarmed. „Picard out."

"What are they _doing_ in holodeck IV, by the way?" the first officer asked composedly. "Is everything all right down there?"

Worf tapped a few keys. "It appears to be a program recreating the atmospheric conditions of Sengga II during the rainy season. The current temperature is... sixty-eight degrees Celsius. It is well within programmed parameters."

"No accounting for taste," muttered Riker. Data swiveled his chair to face him.

"Commander, would the captain really wish to be informed about the program currently running in holodeck IV?"

"If the alternative is listening to Mr. Mot, I'm sure he would,"Riker replied.

"Ah," said Data, brightening visibly. "I understand. Intriguing" – and with that he turned back to his station. The first officer thought he could hear something like a very soft snort behind his back. About a minute and a half later the turbolift door swished open.

"Number One? Was that an emergency, or wasn't it?"

Riker looked up at his captain with limpid innocence. "Actually, sir, the problem has been taken care of."

"I see." Halfway down the ramp Picard seemed to relax. "I... appreciate your circumspection, Will."

"Better safe than sorry, Captain," said Riker piously as he vacated the center chair.

**- - - - - - - - -**


	6. Chapter 6

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 05**

The captain's messroom was an elegantly simple affair with a spectacular view. Lieutenant Worf, scrupulously punctual as usual, found the captain, Beverly Crusher, Data and Doctor Jurgen Wasmuth in possession. Wasmuth was impressing Crusher with some story or other, looking handsome and distinguished with his broad shoulders and immaculately groomed shock of gray hair. Worf greeted him with a curt nod – Cultural Sociology was well outside his own range of interests. As far as he was concerned it was a department that tended to cause away teams, and thus security problems. He was making his way over to Picard and Data when the door swished open again, admitting Commander Riker, who took a quick appraising glance round, nodded towards the captain, and gave Crusher a broad grin.

„Nice to see you, Wasmuth. Doctor, you're looking gorgeous."

Beverly smiled at the tribute – which was indeed well deserved. She was wearing a narrow teal blue sheath of a dress with an asymmetrical standing collar, and earrings that brushed her shoulders. „I just thought our guest shouldn't be the only one not in uniform. With Deanna on shore leave –" She broke off abruptly, a slow smile spreading on her face. Both Riker and Wasmuth turned in the direction she was looking, and stared.

Special Emissary Tyr-Aurell had entered with Geordi La Forge in her wake, looking stunning. Whether it was due to Mr. Mot's efforts or her own skill, her silvery hair was framing her face like a shining halo. She was in a sage dress not entirely unlike Doctor Crusher's but with wide, elaborately embroidered cuffs, and accompanied by matching stockings and high-heeled wide-topped slippers similarly decorated. She looked tall, and willowy, and beautiful, and very alien all at the same time, and when she started towards the captain with the tiny steps that were all her gown allowed her to take Beverly gave a sigh of sheer admiration.

„I'll have that dress copied," she murmured to Riker. „_Just_ as well I didn't turn up in that dreary old uniform. Will, _how_ old is she, again?"

„Seventy-six," the first officer replied under his breath. „Their average life-span is somewhere around a hundred and thirty, though."

Across the room he watched Tyr-Aurell complimenting the captain on something or other with a brilliant smile; then the two of them came towards them, and the captain introduced a delighted Wasmuth. Riker made room for the cultural sociologist with a wry grin, watching Wasmuth smoothly going into performance mode. Picard joined him in the background a moment later.

„You've just made his day, sir," Riker said softly.

„Wait till Ito turns up," muttered Doctor Crusher. „He's read _all_ her papers. He adores her."

„He has met her before?" the captain asked, surprised.

„No," she replied, grinning.

Commander Ito entered the room about a minute later, followed by his chief assistant, Lieutenant Melendez, and the captain introduced the mission specialist once again. Beaming, Ito joined the cluster of admirers surrounding Tyr-Aurell. Crusher gave them about three minutes before appearing at Wasmuth's elbow and suggesting charmingly that they all move towards the buffet.

„With pleasure," Tyr-Aurell replied promptly, deftly rejoining Picard as the group was beginning to make its way across the room. „Captain, I understand these are the people I'll be working with on Yalnrag?"

„Ito and Melendez will be on your team. Wasmuth may do some research as well, but he'll probably remain aboard. We are trying to keep the away team small – with the local guardians who may join you at times you'll be quite a sizeable group anyway."

„How sizeable?" she inquired.

„Well, there will be a minimum of six people from the _Enterprise_ with you and Lieutenant Worf. And we have been informed that during the mating season there will be more of those guardians accompanying the animals than usual. I am under the impression that they'll try to keep an eye on your team – quite inofficially, of course."

„Thus, a dozen people," said Tyr-Aurell. „To be quite frank, Captain, I hope we'll be able to come to an agreement with those people and they'll just let us do our job. I would like to review all the available information with the team before we arrive, if that is possible. – Captain, what a spread!" she exclaimed with a practised look up and down the buffet. „Would you be good enough to guide me through it?"

„Actually, Commander Riker deserves the credit for selecting all this – he seems to have enjoyed himself. Now _this_ is mostly Terran food. Those things over there are the Andorian equivalent of spring rolls, and this is a fish salad. I'm afraid I don't know what this is – "

„She's lovely, isn't she," whispered Suzana Melendez, just in front of Riker, to an amused Beverly Crusher. The doctor managed to catch the first officer's eye before she replied, solemnly: „Very." Riker was inclined to agree – now that Tyr-Aurell was standing with her back to him he was in a position to appreciate the V-shaped back of her dress, framing the silver mane that seemed to be running right down her spine. Worf, behind him in the queue, was making a determined attack on a platter of seafood. Riker had been looking forward to asking him about his experiences with the tribble but now decided to wait for a better opportunity, watching as the Klingon supplied himself with a few slices of lemon and carried his plate over to the table. Ito and Wasmuth closed the gap immediately. In front, the two women were by now discussing the mission. The first officer helped himself to some Andorian spring rolls, knowing they would be gone the next time around, and a small bowl of Mulligatawny soup, and rejoined the captain and the guest of honor just as Tyr-Aurell was settling into her chair on Picard's right.

„– so naturally the replicators are reprogrammed every once in a while," the captain was saying. „But I think Commander Riker is the man to ask. To the best of my knowledge he is quite an artist in the field himself."

„Really!" said Tyr-Aurell, and „What field is that?" asked Riker as he took his seat on the captain's left.

„Cookery," replied Picard.

„Well –," said Riker, immediately recalling the disastrous Owon eggs that had become something of a legend on the ship. It was remotely possible that the captain had never heard that particular story, of course. On the other hand Riker wasn't quite sure he hadn't told him about it himself. But Tyr-Aurell was already turning towards him with an excited smile.

„Commander, I want to have a word with you before this mission is over. I collect recipes. You must have _something_ to teach me after all those years spent on missions to faraway worlds."

„What about _How to leave well alone_?" replied Riker, grinning. „Emissary, I'll be honored, but please believe me that my reputation is exaggerated to put it mildly. In every respect," he added with a brief and pointed look over at La Forge, whose fork had just stopped in midair. Geordi had been present at that memorable egg dinner, and was much too fond of the tale for Riker's taste.

„Oh, I don't know," the chief engineer said promptly. „The commander's dinners have always been quite memorable."

„_Thank_ you, Geordi." It was meant to convey a warning, but something else was distracting him now, and Riker was not sure he had made his point. He had just discovered that the little lavender dent in the center of Tyr-Aurell's forehead had turned a coppery gold for the occasion, and when he craned his neck to catch a look at her hands he discovered the same color in the dents adorning her knuckles. _It's make-up_, he thought with a mixture of incredulity and delight, wondering who else had noticed. To his left Suzana Melendez was telling Data something about samples taken during their last assignment. It suddenly struck him that the woman was sounding quite animated and self-assured when she talked about her work. Intrigued, the first officer turned his head to look at her. A sweet profile and a mass of short dark curls. Why had he never noticed her before? Data was solemnly eating roast vegetables for company, looking almost natural, while Melendez had obviously forgotten all about her food. Beyond them Wasmuth was trying to keep up with what went on at the captain's end of the table, while Beverly Crusher at hers was engaged in some kind of banter with La Forge. Worf was busy eating, and Ito was listening eagerly – Tyr-Aurell was talking about her homeworld now.

„It's a very structured society," she said. „Yes, thank you, Captain, some more wine would be delightful. As you probably know, Ruylan has a caste system with clearly defined roles. The same applies to males and females. Diplomacy is the province of females, mostly those of the nobility, as are most of the sciences. Males tend to be better at the fine arts, and everything that requires a hands-on approach."

„Such as field studies?" ventured Ito on her right.

„Well," she admitted with a twinkle, „my taste for fieldwork may be a little... unbecoming. But then Yalnrag is a _long_ way from Ruylan II."

„What about warfare?" asked Wasmuth from the other side of the table.

Tyr-Aurell smiled, eyes narrowing to glittering slits. „Actually, field commanders are usually men. However, the strategists tend to be females. There are exceptions, naturally, and as my people haven't been engaged in a war for more than a century now we have no way of knowing how recent changes may have affected our traditions."

„Your people are reputed to have been determined fighters, Emissary," remarked Worf.

„_Savage_ fighters, Lieutenant." Tyr-Aurell leaned forward to catch Worf's eye. „You needn't spare me, you know. People who enjoy fighting for its own sake. In fact we still do. Our methods have changed somewhat, though."

„In what way?" asked Worf.

„To answer that I would dearly like to take you to one of our parliamentary sessions, Lieutenant. _Or_ one of our legal hearings. They might surprise you." She smiled again, briefly showing her fangs, and Riker found himself thinking: _Wonder if Worf knows he's being flirted with_. „For good reasons weapons are strictly forbidden both in the courtroom and the Upper and Lower Council even though two knives are traditionally part of Ruylian ceremonial dress. We are a violent, predatory race – more than a little like your own. Only these days we usually manage to use our own savagery to hold the state together, rather than tear it apart."

„Politics as the continuation of war by different means?" inquired Picard, amused. Tyr-Aurell turned back to him, her eyes sparkling.

„_Exactly_ that, Captain. Proficiency in the martial arts is considered an essential part of an upper-caste education to this day. Archery, the _syliss_ – that's a type of long slender sabre – the _lien-masuth _which is a little like your aikido..."

„You have mastered those?" Worf was sounding positively excited now.

„Well, yes. But I am afraid I am shockingly rusty. Except, perhaps, at archery. Admit it, they are not skills you _use_ much these days."

Worf was opening his mouth to reply, and Riker had an idea that he knew what the answer would be, when Beverly Crusher interposed: „Emissary, do I detect a trace of criticism there?"

„You probably do," replied Tyr-Aurell. „These skills are part of our tradition, and they do provide an outlet for our natural tendencies. On the other hand there is such a thing as ignoring the demands of the present. You see, one can become rather preoccupied with the trappings of some golden age that may never have existed."

„Would you teach your own family those same skills?" inquired Crusher.

„Certainly not. I would hire good teachers," said Tyr-Aurell, with immense dignity. Then, as Beverly's lips were beginning to quiver, she grew serious. „Well, I suspect that I probably would. But then it's easy for me to talk as I'll certainly never have a _family_ in that sense. I am – what is your word? – _barren_. I have every intention of returning to Ruylan II at the close of my career and taking a mate, though." She gave the doctor a brilliant smile.

„I... I am afraid I don't quite understand." Beverly Crusher was looking stunned.

„Ah. Infertility marks a woman for a career in one of the sciences. It is usually a sign that she has the necessary talents. You see, in ancient times the guardians of the tribe used to be females who could not bear offspring of their own. They were responsible for survival strategies, long-term planning, the distribution of resources – all the things neither the male warriors nor the mothers of young children could do for themselves. We used to be a warrior society, Doctor. Today, infertility is more frequent the higher the caste."

„I see," said Crusher, a little forlornly.

„But this is fascinating," Wasmuth broke in. „Forgive me, Emissary, but does this mean that these females tended to rise in rank, or are the relevant talents actually more prevalent among the higher castes?"

„A combination of both, I believe. Caste membership is inherited in the male line, and obviously, such females never had any bodily heirs. Ruylian tradition holds" – and now the unmistakable purr was creeping back into her voice – „that the caste system is representative of the natural order of things, and that people are born into their caste in order to perform the tasks they are best suited to perform. Agreement on this is not unanimous, however."

„Something tells me," said Riker with a grin, „that you've had your share of discussions on the subject."

Tyr-Aurell gave a delighted-sounding throaty giggle. „I don't claim to know how you came by _that_ idea, Commander, but it is a fact that my father was regarded as something of an unorthodox thinker by his peers. Not that that reputation is difficult to earn on my homeworld. I sincerely hope that Ruylan II will make it into the Federation some day. It would be quite beneficial if we had more contact with outsiders. We have become so settled in our ways, and we are being proud of it. It doesn't do a civilization any good."

„Yet you have every intention of returning," said Doctor Crusher.

„Well, yes. I like the place, naturally, and my status in society allows me to travel, to receive visitors as I choose, to decide on my own lifestyle. What more could I ask? Besides," she added, skewering the last bit of lobster on her plate, „I cannot very well complain about the status quo, and then refuse to try and alleviate it. A daughter of Syrta-Messil has a social duty to stir things up a little. And I could work towards Federation membership."

„And will you?" asked Picard.

„After all of this, can you doubt it, Captain?" she replied gently.

„Your society might decide the Federation is not for them," commented Worf.

Tyr-Aurell tilted her head, looking at him thoughtfully. „Sometimes things work only at a distance. But it should at least be tried."

„We keep trying, Emissary," the captain said serenely. „Trying hard. As our present mission should prove." _Just in time_, thought Riker with deep appreciation. _This was just beginning to sound serious_. And then suddenly something else occurred to him. _I've never heard Worf talk that much at an official function_.

„Well," he said, „_they_ at least think they are Federation material. After all I've heard this should be a truly interesting visit."

„Mr. Worf has been preparing me for the eventualities," replied Tyr-Aurell with her quick smile.

_I bet he has_, thought the first officer. _Talk of kindred spirits_. But when he and Worf happened to meet at the buffet a few minutes later he nevertheless took the opportunity to ask: „Well, Worf? What do you think of her?"

Worf didn't answer at once; he was busy forking some more cold roast onto his plate, deftly picking the more lurid-looking slices while studiously avoiding the garnish of tomatoes and watercress. Riker helped himself to trout and horseradish sauce, and a few segments of grilled _sruga_, watching with silent hilarity.

„She is a great lady," Worf said at length, his gaze sweeping the buffet. There was some carpaccio left at the far end. He added it to the roast, taking a token gherkin as well. „Well-informed and honorable. It is an honor to serve her."

„I see," said Riker, not quite satisfied. „Quite lovely too, don't you think? Very good company."

Worf gave him a thoughtful look, and the first officer added quickly: „You've spent more time with her than most of us. Seems you're getting along."

Worf gave a noncommittal grunt, eyeing the cold Acamarian _dorik_. Riker made sure there was no one else within hearing before he added: „That animal must be a bit of a trial, though, I should think."

Worf straightened. „It is of no concern to me, Commander," he stated repressively, and stalked off. It was all Riker needed to hear. The first officer turned away to hide the grin he couldn't quite suppress, and took the opportunity to spoon some interesting-looking exotic salad onto his plate before returning to his chair. The captain was eating mussels and listening to Suzana Melendez, who had boldly entered into a conversation with her commanding officer – or more likely, thought Riker, been skilfully drawn into it. For a moment he froze, because the subject appeared to be pets – he distinctly heard her say something about _brindled cats_, and moreover, Tyr-Aurell was listening too. Then he realized with immense relief that Melendez was talking about an away mission she had led in the Golvani sector a week earlier.

„Their eyes are almost white, and they have this thick greenish-gray fur. _Everything_ on that planet is white-eyed. We are still working on a theory."

„Well," said Picard a little wistfully, „I have to take your word for it – of course I never came near them."

„I know, sir. I've been thinking," said Melendez shyly, blushing furiously at the same time, "it must seem a little... _unfair_ sometimes, for the ship's captain of all people not to be able to come on these expeditions..."

Across the table Riker caught a startled look from Tyr-Aurell. A moment later the emissary was changing the subject with determination.

„Oh, but Captain, admit it, if you had a choice between studying the wildlife and studying a civilization, you'd go for the civilization," she said quickly. „I have heard there are some spectacular ruins in the Golvani sector. Did your ship visit – "

_Please_, Riker found himself praying while trying hard to keep a straight face, _don't let this end too soon_.

**- - - - - - - - -**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note**: I apologize for the huge gap between chapters. I had a lot of work to do, and a few entirely unrelated things to write, and somehow this story refuses to behave. I think I have found a solution, though. I'll just stop trying to hammer this into shape. It is _not_ a match for _Ship of Fools_, and never will be, and if I just accept it for what it is everybody will be happier – including the story itself. I'll upload the rest of it with a minimum of revision, and I promise it'll get more entertaining as it progresses, at least.

**----------------------**

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 06**

„... and it seems the local equivalent of a mild flu would kill a Human," said Tyr-Aurell with an air of resignation. „I understand it could kill me too."

„That's why you are here." Beverly Crusher opened a drawer and produced a formidable bundle of hyposprays. „They have been very conscientious – sent me details of all their more common ailments. Better safe than sorry." She began applying the hyposprays, one after another. Tyr-Aurell looked on with interest.

„Lieutenant Worf informed me that certain sects consider assassination, by poison or by other means, to be socially acceptable. Apparently in our case the common cold would serve the purpose."

„Well, but he has a point there. I'll feel much better knowing that you're taking your own food. From what I've been told the local dishes won't do much for most of us anyway. And you'll need regular doses of hyronalin too – the radiation on that planet is formidable. I'll give you a supply of tablets." Crusher reached for the sixth hypospray.

„What about the captain?"

„Naturally I'll inoculate him as well. And whatever security Worf will assign. _They_ won't be able to avoid the local food, of course, but on the other hand the captain won't come into direct contact with those animals, or their very dedicated devotees. You might say that that eliminates one possible source of health problems at least."

„Is it _that_ bad?" asked Tyr-Aurell, startled. Riker might have come over as a little overprotective at first over what he had described as a mere allergy, but by now the first officer's concerns were beginning to sound quite reasonable.

Beverly Crusher shrugged. „We still don't know very much about the specific conditions on Yalnrag, and I think a little additional caution can't do any harm. Lieutenant Worf was quite relieved that the captain won't have to go near a ngahyak."

„From what I can tell he's incredibly concerned about his safety and welfare."

„Oh, yes. They are perpetually at odds about it. Commander Riker is just as bad," added Crusher, amused.

„Yes, I noticed that," said Tyr-Aurell warmly, recollecting her first conversation with Riker. „Very considerate, too. I found it quite touching."

Doctor Crusher dumped the hyposprays back into their drawer. „There. That should do it. You're dining with the captain tonight, aren't you?"

„Yes. He suggested that as we'll arrive in less than two days it might be a good idea to coordinate some of our responses and concessions in advance." Tyr-Aurell frowned a little. „Doctor, if you don't mind, could you tell me something about his special interests – you know, hobbies and the like?"

„Topics of conversation, you mean?" Crusher's eyes sparkled merrily. „Let me think. Diplomatic duty will do just fine, Emissary, and he was looking as interested as everybody else when you were talking about your homeworld. Music. History. Archaeology. Your sabre fencing – he's a fencer himself. He _may_ just ask you to show him how it –"

„He's a _fencer_?" asked Tyr-Aurell, intrigued.

„Oh, yes. Foil and épée – and Klingon bat'telh as well, as far as I know... Don't look so surprised," she added, grinning. „He _likes_ old-fashioned sports. In fact he used to be an avid rider – he even keeps his own saddle aboard. Of course, circumstances being what they are, he only rides on the holodeck these days."

„Of course." Tyr-Aurell nodded, sobering instantly. „I understand. What a shame."

„Well, occasionally you have to give up something. It could be worse. At least, on this ship, we _have_ holodecks."

„Of course. The holodeck is a marvellous invention. It's just not the same."

„No," agreed Crusher. „It isn't."

**- - - - ****- - - **

„This," said Picard, carefully placing a decanter and two glasses on the table, „is cognac. An after-dinner drink from Earth. The replicators produce a syntheholic version which some people say is better. This, on the other hand, grew on a real vine."

„What beautiful glasses," said Tyr-Aurell, watching with interest as he poured the drinks. „Captain, I've been told about the fish in your ready room, but I just saw you have an aquarium here as well."

„Well, actually..." She caught a slight rueful smile. „You see, you are given a say in the decoration of your quarters, within certain limits. That picture over there, for example – " He nodded towards the painting of a starbase adorning the wall behind his desk. „I seem to remember that among the other options were an artist's holographic interpretation of the Great Seal of the Federation… and a rendering of a rather large and famous statue of Zephram Cochrane, I rather believe. I am afraid I didn't care much for any of them, and the only remaining option was that aquarium, so..."

Tyr-Aurell's lip quivered. „I see," she said earnestly. „But fish are such beautiful creatures. So peaceful." _And safe_, she added to herself, accepting her glass and expertly sniffing its contents.

„I suppose it is comforting to have some living thing around," he replied thoughtfully.

Tyr-Aurell felt a stab of compassion. _It's so unfair_. Then another thing claimed her attention for a moment. „This is wonderful," she said emphatically. „What did you call it – cognac?"

„Yes. It is made in southern France." He was looking at the fish tank with a slight frown. „You know, I think it must be months since I last took notice of this."

„Really!" She smiled. „Well, they don't clamor for your attention all the time. But if you don't look after them, wo does?"

„Lieutenant DeMaris," he said, a little distractedly. „Of the cetacean lab. He occasionally rearranges the ready room fishbowl as well. – Are fish your special field?"

„Not really," she replied, accepting the opening with alacrity. „But I've always liked watching them. Obviously, I can't keep any, but I will once I have the opportunity. There is something fascinating about creatures that simply go about their business, ignoring you, ignoring your attention, living entirely in their own world..."

„It does put things into perspective," said the captain with a slight smile.

„It certainly does. An entire little world contained in a tank sitting on someone's table. They don't know, and they couldn't care less. You have a few lovely specimens there – is that a blue-spangled dolkfish I see?"

„I don't know," said Picard, sounding startled. „Is it?"

Tyr-Aurell paused in the act of setting her glass down. „Captain, you don't know the first thing about fish."

„No, I don't suppose I do," he replied apologetically, visibly confused now.

There was a short pause. She looked at him searchingly. Then – „You're not at all interested in them," she decided in complete bewilderment. „Captain, why in the world would you allow me to bore you out of your mind with all this when you're not interested in fish?"

„You didn't bore me at all," he said quickly. „It's a shame I know so little about them, seeing that they have been here for years. I am sorry I make such a poor audience. Perhaps..." He interrupted himself, frowning slightly. „Tell me," he said suddenly, „are _you_ at all interested in fish?"

Tyr-Aurell blushed – a dark gold. „Oh, Captain! I had no idea I was being so obvious."

„You were not," he said gently. „Why else would I have allowed you to go on about a subject you apparently chose for my benefit alone?"

„Oh! I thought _you_ were... I was not sure..."

„Emissary, let's just leave those fish alone, shall we, and talk about something you would _like_ to talk about?"

She laughed a little shakily. „Gladly. How absurd. I'm truly sorry – no, I'm not apologizing, I'm truly sorry for the waste of precious time. You wouldn't believe the kind of misunderstanding that... isn't communication a wonderful thing? You know," she continued, changing tracks with the grace of a born diplomat, „it's just reminded me of an occasion on Kym Mkta Sgora – the Federation consul was giving a reception in honor of some elder statesman, a lavish affair..."

The captain reached for the decanter, and silently refilled both their glasses.

Much later, after his guest had taken her leave (and they had been sitting there lost in conversation until well past midnight), he found himself wandering over to the fish tank and pausing in front of it, studying it thoughtfully. Its finned inhabitants were minding their own business as usual, serenely unaware of him or anything else beyond the glass walls of their particular universe. What he could only assume to be a blue-spangled dolkfish was casting about for food underneath the computer-operated feeding hatch.

He shook his head slightly, rather like a man failing to make sense of something or other, and went to bed.

**- - - - - -**

„So you'll be making history, the two of you," an amused Will Riker said in Ten Forward, having just listened to Data's account of that afternoon's meeting with Tyr-Aurell.

„If you are referring to the Federation Zoological Database, the forthcoming entry will not be my first contribution. Neither will it be the emissary's. She informed me that she has submitted eleven new entries in the course of her career so far. A very distinguished record, although she seems determined to improve on it before she retires."

„Did she say that?"

„She did say that meeting me had opened up _a whole new vista_ for her. I was processing information about her homeworld she was unwittingly providing while discussing mission details. When I mentioned this to her she said that I had just taught her something about making the most of time, and that she would be sure to emulate my example in the future. According to the emissary I make her feel both old and young. – Commander," he added, earnestly, „I believe she was _flirting_ with me."

„More than likely," agreed Riker. „That woman flirts with everybody."

„Interesting," said Data. „I was not aware that I have mastered the necessary skills. She may not have found it particularly enjoyable."

„What makes you think that?"

Data cocked his head, considering. „I always assumed that I lack a number of requirements, such as emotional awareness, a sense of humor, and the ambition to appear attractive to a a particular person."

„Well, from what you're telling me she was in no hurry to be out of your company," Riker pointed out. „You know, Data, flirting isn't so much about making yourself appear attractive than it's about being yourself and letting the other person discover that you _are_ attractive. And as far as I remember you've been thought good company before."

„But my attempts at mastering the dynamics of a relationship have so far resulted in failure," replied Data serenely.

„But this isn't about the dynamics of a relationship. Don't be so infernally _thorough_, Data. It's simply about spending time agreeably. Did you enjoy yourself?"

Data considered. „I find her well-informed on a wide range of subjects, and quite adept at putting her observations across. From her manner of responding she appeared to appreciate my own comments. Her habit of occasionally linking subjects by association both verbal and factual, rather than strict logic, seems indicative of a lively mind, and adds a certain challenge to the conversation."

„There you are," said Riker. „I rest my case."

„Ah," said Data. „I believe I understand. Intriguing" – and after another moment of pondering he added: „Thank you, Commander."

„You're quite welcome," replied Riker, watching as the android solemnly slid off the barstool and left. He quietly finished his drink and was on the point of leaving himself when a deep husky voice asked from the other side of the bar: „Content with your own company tonight, Riker?"

The first officer grinned, pushing his empty glass over at her. „Contrary to popular belief I _am_ capable of keeping myself company. Anyway, Data just left. Why – surprised to see me?"

„Well," said Guinan, refilling the glass, „I just thought you might be looking after that tribble of hers. She's dining with the captain I'm told, and she wouldn't want to take it along."

Riker found himself quickly looking to the left and right, but Ten Forward was emptying by now. „Look," he said, „I have no idea who told you, but please don't betray me. It was just a silly joke – I never imagined it would be so much fun. Nobody is getting hurt. Don't spoil it," he pleaded.

„Oh, _I'm_ not going to spoil it. What do you think will happen once Worf finds out that it was you who saddled him with that tribble, and that Picard doesn't even know it exists?"

„No idea," replied Riker. „He may just beat the crap out of me during our next bat'telh session. I'll make amends, though."

„Do you have any idea what the captain will do once he realizes he's acquired a pet allergy?"

Riker thought. „He'll think it all a little undignified, and he'll be absolutely right."

Guinan tilted her head, looking at him from under the brim of her plum-colored hat. „It's just that these things have a way of backfiring on you when you don't expect it. Don't be too surprised when this one does."

„Right." Riker squared his shoulders, saluting her with his newly-refilled glass. „I won't be. In fact I'll take any punishment that will be meted out to me. It'll be worth it – I've rarely been entertained so well."

„It's had its moments so far," agreed Guinan, deadpan.

**- - - - - - - -**


	8. Chapter 8

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 07**

In Picard's ready room, the captain and the first officer were going over ship's business in their time-honored manner – Picard sipping his tea, Riker opposite him sitting with his elbows on the desk and a padd in his hand. „What exactly was the „minor accident" in the main shuttlebay?" inquired the captain.

„A major piece of idiocy. They were rearranging the shuttlecraft, and due to contradictory instructions and lack of maneuvering space Ensign Kobe landed the _El-Baz_ more or less on top of the _Jungk_'s port nacelle. While they were trying to sort out the mess someone reversed the _Justman_ into the _El-Baz_'s rear."

„Why didn't they use the tractor beams?"

„Because the flight deck officer thought that due to the large number of vehicles to be moved, piloting them would be quicker and, er, more efficient." Their eyes met for an instant before Picard looked down again, studying his mug. Riker, however, was grinning openly. After a moment he continued: „Preparations for the camp we'll pitch on Yalnrag are almost complete. There was some confusion about the kind of climate the science team can expect, but apparently it's been sorted out."

„Special emissary Tyr-Aurell and I have worked out most of what we can promise with a clear conscience. It's only reasonable to expect that both of us will be asked all sorts of questions; it would be a little embarrassing if our answers didn't match."

Riker leaned back in his chair, checking off the last item on his padd. „Nice evening, sir?"

„Oh, yes. Very. I just wonder what gave her the idea that fish are a hobby of mine."

„_Fish_, sir?" asked Riker, momentarily taken aback, trying to think of a connection.

Picard nodded. „For a while she seemed determined to discuss fish. I can't imagine why. That aquarium caught her attention, and after that –" The captain shrugged, a little perplexedly.

„Oh," said Riker, understanding dawning, and grinned at the lionfish that was just making its sedate way to the top of the tank. „Er – I think I may have mentioned your fish bowl in conversation."

The captain looked surprised, then thoughtful. „I see."

„Once she realized you have _two_ tanks it must have seemed fairly obvious to her," said Riker. Unbidden, a new idea intruded. _I wonder what would happen if I told her he's a member of the A.S.A. as well_. He hastily dismissed the thought before it could take root, asking instead: „How did you come by this one, anyway?"

„Captain's prerogative," replied Picard wryly. „You know that when I was offered the ship she was barely out of spacedock. And this being the flagship they appeared to think that some extra flourish was required, and so I was given a a choice of decorative items for the ready room as well – three or four of them as I recall. – There was an artist sponsored by Starfleet at the time," he added, reminiscently. „He was omnipresent. Large semi-abstract metal sculptures with titles like _Ascent_ and _Aspiration_ and _Ad Astra_ – every starbase had one. I might have had an original, specially commissioned for the flagship."

„I wonder how you could resist," muttered Riker.

Before Picard could answer Worf's deep voice came over the intercom. „Bridge to captain. Sir, Yalnrag is hailing us. The Chancellor's chief secretary. Mr. Ghanig."

Startled, the captain looked up. „Already? But we are six hours from arriving!"

„From what I've been told it's about midnight in their capital," added Riker.

„There appears to be a problem," replied Worf, utterly unperturbed. „Should I put him through, Captain?"

„Of course." Picard swiveled his small desk terminal towards himself, motioning to Riker to stay where he was. The first officer, half out of his chair, gratefully plopped back into it and craned his neck as the screen sprang to life.

The individual was pale-skinned, yellowish, with distinctly lizardlike features. The mouth and chin set well forward under a flat nose, the forehead swept back to become a high, ridgelike bony projection. What looked like gills were running down from the temples to the sides of the neck. Startlingly, the chief secretary had long dark hair, pulled back on either side of the bony comb and seemingly gathered into a pigtail behind.

„Captain Picard." Instinctively, Picard had been preparing for a slighty hissing sound, but the voice was dry and precise. „In the name of the government of Yalnrag let me welcome you to our world."

„Thank you, Secretary Ghanig. We are looking forward to the visit. I'm a little surprised that you should be taking this trouble, however. I trust nothing has gone wrong?"

„Well." The official tilted his head slightly. „Nothing has gone wrong, Captain, but we would appreciate it if the initial meeting aboard your ship could be brought forward by a few hours. There is no cause for concern. We will explain our reasons." He tilted his head again, to the other side this time. _Nervousness_, thought the captain. „Would that be possible?"

„I don't see why not." Riker, catching a brief glance, gave a nod. „When would your delegation like to come aboard? We will be arriving in about six hours, which I have been informed will be before dawn. If you'll give me the exact time, I'm sure we can accommodate you."

„Thank you very much, Captain Picard. Would seventeen... er, 17.30 be agreeable to you?"

„But of course," replied Picard easily, notwithstanding the fact that Riker was mouthing „_Seventeen-thirty_?" from the other side of the desk. „Will there be changes regarding the members of the delegation?"

More head-tilting, this time accompanied by some moving about of objects on the secretary's desk. „No, Captain Picard. The chancellor, the science minister and the minister for internal affairs, myself and some security. Please understand, Captain Picard," he added firmly, „this change in schedule has become necessary for reasons of organization alone. I very much hope we are not putting you to any undue trouble."

„Not in the least," said Picard serenely. „I am looking forward to this meeting, Secretary Ghanig."

„As am I. You are very gracious, Captain. Thank you. Until our meeting, then."

The screen went dark. Picard gave his first officer an expectant look. „Well, Number One?"

„Seventeen-thirty," said Riker, „will be their equivalent of half past seven in the morning. When a head of state wants an appointment brought forward to a time he'd normally get into the shower he'll have a very good reason."

„Let's hope those 'reasons of organization' are not a full-scale political crisis. He was quite nervous."

„Four bigwigs," mused Riker. „There'll be a dozen security underfoot. Worf'll just love it."

„Problem, Number One?" asked Picard

„No, but Worf is a little on edge. He's been waiting for confirmation that they want you to go down to that planet as well so he could protest officially. But they haven't confirmed it, not in so many words. And then you know what he thinks of a ship swarming with other people's security."

The captain smiled. „Well, it should be a brief ordeal. They are obviously in a hurry. – Will, does he get along with the emissary?"

„Oh, yes," said Riker, a little surprised. „I'd say she is delighted with him, and he – well, you heard him at the dinner. He was getting really talkative by his standards. Why – do you feel anything's wrong, Captain?"

„I don't know," confessed Picard. „He strikes me as somewhat... jumpy. I have been wondering if there is something on his mind."

The first officer was aware of another surge of bad conscience. „I'll try to find out," he said quickly. „Maybe he's just worrying. It should get better once he has something to do down there."

Picard nodded. „Very well. Once you have sorted out this rescheduling business, go and get some rest. Who knows what will turn up during that meeting."

„Will do, Captain," said Riker.

**x ****x x **

Tyr-Aurell was unperturbed when Riker told her of the change in plans. „Of course," she said composedly. „As long as they don't go back on their offer of allowing me to study those animals. I confess, that _would_ irritate me."

Riker correctly interpreted her gesture as an invitation to take a seat. He even went so far as to stroke the tribble which was sitting in a corner of her sofa, just within reach. The creature promptly started purring. _They're such inoffensive things_, he found himself thinking. _I really wonder what anybody..._ But then Worf had mentioned, with disgust, the sound they made when displeased. It was hard to imagine that displeasure was within their emotional range.

„I was just about to get myself a cup of _gulma_," said Tyr-Aurell, breaking into his musings. „Would you like to join me, Commander?"

„With pleasure," replied Riker promptly. „What is _gulma_?"

„_Gulma_," she said, rising and walking over to the replicator, „is a beverage very unlike your coffee but with a similar social status. In other words, it is what you are offered no matter what the time of day or the purpose of your visit. – Two cups of _gulma_. Hot. – So do you expect difficulties from this change of schedule?"

„It may be just what he says, a minor mess-up in organization. I'm sure the captain will handle it," he said, watching as she placed two cups made of thick blue glass on the table and sat down again. Once again Riker found himself noticing how very beautiful she was with her almost silver hair and the slightly predatory grace of her movements. She was wearing one of her form-fitting tunic-and-trouser suits, slate blue in color, and the make-up on her forehead and hands was back to its working-day lavender. The beverage in the cups was cream-colored and a little frothy, and he noticed that she lifted hers by its bulging rim, careful not to touch the hot cup itself. Following her example, he took a cautious sip. It was rich and sweet with a bitter, almond-like aftertaste, and a tang almost like alcohol. „Delicious," he said decidedly. „What's it made of?"

„The fruit, or rather the seeds, of a green-flowering shrub called _mauna_. The preparation is a rather complicated process involving a whole industry. – As your captain said of the drink cognac," she added with her sparkling smile, „I think the replicated variety is not quite up to real _gulma_, but this is all I can offer you at the moment."

„In that case the real thing must be something spectacular. So how do you like cognac?"

„I am afraid," she said with a purr to her voice and a glint of mischief, „I finished the decanter."

Riker snorted, almost choking on the hot _gulma_. At the same time, a thought hit him. „Nice evening?" he asked.

„_Delightful_," she answered, earnestly. And before he could even ask further she continued with a twinkle: „Although I managed to embarrass both him and myself by assuming him to be fond of pet fish. It seemed so _logical_, after what you had told me, and seeing that big tank..." She giggled. „He must have thought me out of my mind. I just went on and on about those poor fish..." The giggle turned to outright laughter, and Riker couldn't help joining in wholeheartedly. „I should have asked you first!" she gasped.

„Asked me?" he echoed, sobering somewhat.

„Before I ventured on the subject of pets at all." Quite suddenly, she grew serious again. „Actually, I am very lucky he took it so graciously – I might have hurt his feelings in a very stupid and tactless manner. You see, I simply assumed that he is keeping those fish because it's the one kind of pet he _can_ keep, and that he would _like_ to discuss them..."

„And then you found, to your surprise, that he was utterly out of his depth," offered Riker.

„Exactly. And he found me out, of course. It was very inconsiderate of me, and he was so kind – trying to help me over _my_ embarrassment, if you can imagine that – on second thoughts I am really quite ashamed."

„Don't be," pleaded Riker. „Actually, I'm quite sure he didn't mind at all. I happen to know that he enjoyed the evening."

„Well, in that case I am very glad," she said. „He is such a charming man, and it is such a shame... Doctor Crusher told me that he used to love horseback riding but now of course has to make do with the holodeck, and it almost broke my heart."

For the second time in the course of the conversation the first officer almost choked. _Beverly, you're beautiful_. Aloud he said with barely a quiver to his voice: „It is an unhappy combination of circumstances. But in fairness, most of the time it doesn't make too much of a difference."

„No," she said a little sadly. „Perhaps not. I must confess, though, I am unreasonably fond of my little pet here. Having to give it away would make a difference to _me_." She looked up and smiled. „How absurd. Now I am waxing morbid while your captain is handling it so well. Enough of this. – Would you care for another cup of _gulma, _Commander?"

„Emissary, I'd love to. But I have to get back to my job. I'll take you up on the invitation some other time," he promised, getting to his feet. „As it is, I'll see you at that briefing. Seventeen-thirty."

„Of course," she said. „I won't forget."

**x ****x x **


	9. Chapter 9

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 08**

A few hours later the _Enterprise_'s conference lounge was crowded.

The Eminent Chancellor Nyk was a short, stocky, brisk-moving individual – about Chief Engineer La Forge's height, but of considerably broader build. The minister for internal affairs, the Honorable Thulgig, was a woman with a skin slightly darker and ruddier than that of the males and a smaller comb half-hidden by elaborately coiled dark hair. The Honorable Sylnra, minister for science, looked subtly different from all the others – a narrower face, a slightly different cast of features; Picard found himself wondering if he might be from Yalnrag's second continent. Chief Secretary Ghanig turned out to be the tallest of the four, his bony comb topping Worf's ridges by something like half an inch. There was security as announced, a unit of half a dozen individuals led by the Chief of Planetary Security, introduced as „the Lughan". The security squad had been told by the chancellor to wait in a small lounge near the transporter room. The lughan, on the other hand, had accompanied Picard and the diplomats to the bridge, and entered the lounge ahead of everybody else, scanning the room with narrowed eyes. The assembled officers took it in their stride; only Worf bristled visibly, rather pointedly remaining on his feet until everybody else was seated.

Riker had, of course, seen to it that enough chairs were available, and after the chancellor had politely refused Picard's offer of the chair at the head of the table, taking the one to the captain's right instead, everybody found a seat. Tyr-Aurell sat down next to Riker, on Picard's left as usual, while Worf squeezed in between the chancellor and Data. The lughan took a chair at the other end of the table, close to La Forge and Secretary Ghanig, where he sat bolt upright, eyes darting about suspiciously.

„I believe we owe you an explanation, Captain Picard," the chancellor said as soon as the introductions were over. „There will be a parliamentary session this afternoon. My... political opponents have been insinuating that I have misrepresented the level of involvement the Federation is willing to consider. If I could present the Council with the fact that your _Enterprise_ is in orbit this minute, and that the captain of the Federation flagship has personally confirmed our preliminary agreements, my cabinet would rest much easier. Figuratively speaking, of course."

„We're being scanned practically without pause ever since we assumed standard orbit," Riker remarked easily. „I'll bet that every single member of the Council knows exactly where we are."

„Commander," said the chancellor, turning soulful brownish-green eyes upon Riker, „my political opponents may _know_ that you are there, but facts are valueless as long as they are not spoken aloud. A ship in orbit that is not pointed out might as well be a thousand light-years away."

„It is quite impossible for me to play any part in your parliamentary debate, of course," Picard said firmly, „but I can assure you that the Federation stands by the preliminary agreement our governments have reached."

„Thank you, Captain. That is all I was hoping for. Now," he said, all eagerness again, „let me show you what you have come to see. I trust you have never seen a recording of a ngahyak before."

„No indeed. I have been told that recordings are not allowed."

„Well. They have not been allowed outside our world until this day. But in practice, they exist – naturally. This is actually a recording made for educational purposes, shown at schools. It is, I think, quite a good illustration of how Yalnragians feel about the issue. In anticipation of a time when we will need to inform others, we have taken the liberty of having this re-recorded. I believe, Captain, Emissary, that your computers will feel quite at home with it." And with a flourish he produced what looked for all the world like an isolinear chip, held out on the palm of a pudgy three-fingered hand for all to see.

"Chancellor," murmured Tyr-Aurell, "you are making history this very moment."

The Eminent Chancellor Nyk beamed at her. "I am very aware of that, Emissary. Would you like to do the honors, perhaps?"

"With pleasure," said Tyr-Aurell, a pronounced purr in her voice, and took the chip.

The captain swiveled his chair to face the wall monitor with due solemnity, and while everybody was following his example Tyr-Aurell tapped a few keys in the padd set into the table. The monitor came alive. A large yellow logo appeared on a bright blue background, surrounded by angular characters. More sequences of characters followed, presumably explaining the nature of the material shown, and a few notes of stately music were beginning to reverberate in the background. Rolling countryside appeared, covered by long bluish grass. A pale yellow moon hung in a faintly lavender-colored sky. The background music rose in a quavering crescendo. An animal wandered into view.

The captain thought he could hear something like a disbelieving gasp from where Riker was sitting.

The animal was heavily built, four-legged, vaguely bluish in color and covered by long shaggy hair. Judging by some nearby shrubs it was very large – about two meters high at the withers, more than that in length. It appeared to have hooves; in fact it reminded Picard of nothing so much as a particularly grotesque relative of the Terran gnu. _Didn't someone say they look like raccoons_? he found himself thinking, stunned. The creature had horns too, shaped more or less like a ram's but large enough to obscure most of its head and short thick neck, and huge protruding front teeth, emphasized by the fact that it walked with its head poked forward rather than up. The captain was still trying to get past his initial sense of disbelief when the animal on the monitor stopped abruptly, pawed the ground with one foreleg, raised its head and uttered a sound that started as a high-pitched screech, scaling downward to become a kind of bray and ending in a series of short yelping barks. Picard resisted the instant urge to cover his ears, concluding from the creaking of chairs around the table that his officers, like himself, had been on the point of leaping to their feet.

After that the unreal quality gradually diminished. The quavering background music swelled to operatic magnificence as the ngahyak were shown eating, walking, fighting – which apparently meant ramming rivals at full speed with their horns – and courting prospective mates. The presentation ended with a group of them sleeping peacefully in the light of two pastel-shaded moons, the music, to the captain's relief, dying away as well.

„Well," said the chancellor solemnly, startling everybody into swiveling their chairs back towards the table. „Now you know a little more about one of the symbols of our world. As well as one of its main problems. This recording was actually made in the Lnru area – which is where you will be conducting your studies, Emissary," he added with a courteous little half-bow towards Tyr-Aurell. „It is a thinly-populated region, so we are not anticipating any problems."

Tyr-Aurell smiled at the chancellor. „I appreciate your thoughtfulness, sir, and I am positive we can conduct this survey to everybody's satisfaction."

„I have no doubt of that," he replied, beaming. „Several of our foremost authorities on the ngahyak will be monitoring your work. They are greatly looking forward to it I am told. Preparations are almost complete, and the inhabitants of the nearest townships have been informed. They may not support your work, Emissary – you will understand, it is a quiet, rural part of our world – but they won't hinder it either."

„Just how strongly do you think they disapprove of this, Chancellor?" asked Riker.

„In that particular area, planting is about to begin, Commander. The ngahyak have been... to tell you the truth," he said, sounding rather less solemn than before, "they have become a bit of a nuisance in recent years. They tend to eat the crops, you understand, and as long as we have not agreed on areas to be set aside for them there is nothing we can do about it. Thus, the people will hopefully be tolerant of your work."

„Wouldn't it be possible to fence in the fields?" asked Doctor Crusher from the far end of the table.

„Unfortunately, the ngahyak must not be hindered in any way whatsoever," Minister Thulgig replied with a trace of asperity. „At least, that is the attitude we are forced to adhere to."

„We are hoping, with your help, to find a workable compromise," said the chancellor. „There is a small but very _vocal_ parliamentary faction advocating complete freedom and complete protection for them, impracticable as that may seem. Which leads me to another point." He tilted his head slightly. „Captain, I have not put this request before, but it would be extremely helpful if you could join us in Yalnrag-Myura for a few days. To assist in sorting out the political questions while the special emissary works on the scientific aspects of the problem. If it is not too much to ask –"

„If you believe it would be helpful, it is certainly not too much to ask," the captain replied serenely. Riker thought he could see Worf turning his eyes towards the ceiling for a brief moment.

„The cabinet – the entire government of Yalnrag – would appreciate it very much, Captain Picard. – I know, of course, that you are not allowed to support any one faction," he added quickly, with a look that held a degree of speculation.

„You are very well informed, Chancellor," said Picard with the trace of a smile. „Indeed I am not."

„That will be no problem at all. After all, the one thing we would all like to see is a solution agreeable to all parties. In the name of Yalnrag, let me thank you for your kindness. – Will you and your staff join us for a tour of our capital tomorrow?"

„We are looking forward to it. I believe you have transmitted the details?"

„There has been a slight change," Chief Secretary Ghanig said. „We are very pleased to inform you that the new wing of the unversity has been completed ahead of schedule. Thus, we have included a brief visit to the University of Yalnrag-Myura, instead of the planned tour of our national center of ngahyak studies."

„That will suit us very well," said Riker, smoothly taking over as master of protocol. Secretary Ghanig gave him a solemn nod.

„Excellent," said the chancellor. „Captain Picard, we have been informed that your chief of security has been assigned to Special Emissary Tyr-Aurell. As a gesture of our respect, will you allow our Chief of Planetary Security to make your safety his personal concern?"

For the first time the captain looked a little startled. „Chancellor, the gesture is deeply appreciated, but for your Chief of Planetary Security to neglect more important business –"

"Forgive me, Captain," intoned the chancellor, "but under the circumstances there _is_ no more important business" – and Riker's head snapped round just in time to see Worf's scowl change to an expression of reluctant approval. The first officer swallowed a grin.

"I can assure you, Captain," said the lughan – it was the first time he said a word, and the booming voice startled everyone in the room – "that you will be safer in the capital than you would be on your own ship."

_Brilliant one__, mate_, thought Riker gleefully, watching Worf's expression go from incredulity to outrage – for a moment it almost looked as if Worf was on the point of heaving himself out of his chair.

"I thank you for your concern," said Picard, unruffled, although there was a telltale glint in his eye. Worf sank back onto his chair, looking murderous. "And for this honor – and I can assure you that I have the utmost trust in your security proceedings."

„You are very welcome," replied the chancellor, rising briskly from his seat – Riker had a feeling that all of them had found the lounge chairs rather uncomfortable. „Captain, we'll be getting back down to our parliamentary session. I am truly delighted at this beginning. Thank you very much indeed for your hospitality and your patience."

„It has been our pleasure," replied Picard, getting to his feet.

**x ****x x **

Lieutenant Worf was not looking forward to the interview. In fact he had a feeling that he already knew how it would go. Commander Riker was on his side, he was sure of that, but sometimes that was not enough. But he was Chief of Security, and he knew – and cherished – his duty.

„Come," the captain's voice called from within the ready room.

When Picard looked up from his padd Worf thought for about half a second that he could see a faintly amused expression on the captain's face. Almost as if his, Worf's, appearance at this point in time was both expected and appreciated. „Yes, Lieutenant?"

„Captain." Worf waited for the door to swish shut in his back, and then came straight to the point. „Under the circumstances, I would ask to be reassigned. It would be inadvisable for you to go down to Yalnrag without protection."

Picard smiled a little as he put the padd down on the desk and leant back in his chair. „But I'll have the protection of no less a personage than the Chief of Planetary Security himself, Mr. Worf."

„Yes, Captain." Worf knew his commanding officer well enough to be able to tell that Picard was as unimpressed by the fact as he was himself; thus he dismissed it without ceremony. „I believe I would be better suited to ensure your safety."

„I appreciate your concern. But whatever your personal opinion, I obviously can't refuse their offer. You know that as well as I do."

„Captain," said Worf earnestly. „You may be in danger on this planet."

„Mr. Worf. I can't guarantee that I won't be. But for one I really think it's quite unlikely, and for another your place right now is with Emissary Tyr-Aurell. Can you imagine what it would look like if I were to deprive her of her honor guard the moment an honor guard may become necessary?"

The interview was going _exactly_ the way he had thought it would. Worf mentally dismissed any fleeting hope he might have cherished, of being allowed to protect his captain rather than the lady and her loathsome pet, and decided to fall back on his next line. After all these years, he naturally worked out possible compromises in advance.

„In that case I would ask your permission to assign a security detail. – Commander Riker has informed the local authorities that this is standard procedure," he added quickly. „Regulations – "

„Thank you, Mr. Worf, I know the regulations." Worf recognized resignation when he saw it – at least when he saw it in Picard. The captain had evidently been prepared for a compromise himself. „Very well. Two of your people, Lieutenant, not more."

„But Captain – "

„Two," said Picard firmly. Was that a hint of a smile? „That's as far as I will go."

„Yes, Captain." Worf hesitated. Something about this bargaining didn't sound entirely serious to him. Somehow they had arrived at this solution a little too _easily_. Somehow, he still couldn't quite shake the impression that the look in Picard's eyes held a touch of affectionate amusement.

There was no way he could verify any of this, of course.

He was on the point of leaving when Picard said: „Mr. Worf –"

„Yes, Captain." He turned back. This was the personal part.

„Are there any problems with your current assignment? I have a feeling that you are not entirely happy with your role."

Worf drew a deep breath. _He knows_. Picard was giving him an opening. He could tell him that he would do his duty, naturally, but that looking after a tribble was below a warrior's dignity. He could tell him that looking after a tribble while his captain might be in danger was more than anybody should ask of him. Then Picard would probably take him off this ridiculous assignment. And of course he knew at the same moment that he couldn't do it. He could not stand here complaining about a job his captain had given him. What his captain asked of him, he did. If it proved hard, so much the better. He would never, ever, disappoint his captain.

„No, sir. I have no problem with my assignment." Naturally, if the captain were to infer from this that Worf did have a problem with the fact that he hadn't been given a _different_ assignment, he was free to do so. Worf felt fleetingly pleased with himself.

„I understand. That will be all, Lieutenant."

**x ****x x **

Ensign Sanders and Lieutenant junior grade Beya were good at their job, and knew it. They knew themselves to be privileged as well. Serving aboard the flagship under Lieutenant Worf was as good an opportunity as you were likely to get, provided you could take the strain. Right now they realized they were being given one of those assignments that could make or break a security officer. Lieutenant Worf was pacing. That in itself would have alerted them to the fact that he was being serious.

„You understand that you will be fully responsible for the captain's safety for the duration of this mission."

Sanders and Beya exchanged a look. „Yes, sir," said Beya.

„Planetary Security has assured me that every precaution will be taken. You, however, will conduct yourselves as if Planetary Security had taken no precautions whatsoever. I have reason to believe that your training has been more thorough than that of the local personnel. Besides," Worf added, ominously, „the locals do not know the captain."

„Sir?" said Sanders.

„At some stage he will ask you to relax your vigilance. The locals may do so. You will not."

„I understand, sir. But what if he makes it an order? You know, the way he –"

„In that case you will improvise," interrupted Worf. „You have been chosen for a purpose. I expect you to justify my trust in you." He frowned for a moment. „I believe the lughan to be a self-important fool. He will not know how to treat the captain. He will be offended to find that the captain is not afraid, and he may decide to respond by taking his duties lightly."

Beya nodded. „Okay. I take it the captain would be happy enough with that, and he won't wait for us either."

„No. He will not. He is a warrior at heart." Worf hesitated, torn between pride and exasperation. „Still, you will find a way of watching over him. I will have to rely on you. I am –" He interrupted himself, glared at the two of them, and added: „There have been assassinations by fanatical sects."

They nodded again. „I think we're getting the picture, sir," said Beya. „We'll take care."

„I would be very displeased if anything were to happen to the captain," stated Worf, somewhat unnecessarily. „Dismissed."

**x ****x x **


	10. Chapter 10

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 09**

Chief Secretary Ghanig had been quite precise on the details of a tour of Yalnrag-Myura, and he had dropped a few strong hints that Captain Picard and his staff might want to see the new spaceport, finished only two turns before. The captain had dutifully agreed, which was why he and Riker, Tyr-Aurell, Doctor Crusher and Worf were arriving by shuttlecraft, rather than beaming directly into the capital's government district.

„It's raining," observed Crusher conversationally, leaning over Worf's shoulder to look out the front window. Worf, who was piloting the _Galileo_, gave a grunt of disgust. Two minutes later he had accomplished a flawless landing in the thin drizzle. The sky was an ominous purple when the five of them stepped out onto the huge open space, to find a line of soldiers in elaborate blue uniforms drawn up, and a little knot of dignitaries waiting. The chancellor was there as well as well as Secretary Ghanig and the lughan, this time accompanied by a security squad of at least a dozen.

Chancellor Nyk came eagerly forward, holding out a three-fingered hand. „Captain Picard, I'm delighted to see you again. A pity you were not there during yesterday's Council session. The opposition was crushed by my news. Emissary... Commander... Doctor... Lieutenant, let me welcome you to our world. Shall we get out of this rain?"

The moment they turned to walk towards the spaceport building they noticed the statues – and indeed it would have been very hard to miss them. To either side of the huge porch was a pedestal some three meters high, each bearing a statue of a ngahyak. The one to the left was a male, recognizable, as everybody knew since the day before, by its huge square front teeth, head and foreleg raised; to the right was the female, glowering down from the pedestal. They were much larger than life and crafted of a variety of materials, evidently chosen to represent the animals' natural colors – bluish stone as well as a number of metals and what looked like semiprecious stones. Picard heard something that sounded like an involuntary „Oh my God" from Beverly Crusher, and then the chancellor said, beaming: „This is one of the things we wanted you to see. We designed our new spaceport to represent both our world's traditions and the new era that is about to begin. These were created by Malgn Hyula, one of our foremost contemporary artists."

„They are very striking," replied Picard, quite sincerely, pausing for a moment to get a better look at them. The others clustered round dutifully. „Is that a characteristic attitude?" inquired the captain with every appearance of interest, somewhat to Riker's dismay. The rain was growing stronger if anything.

„It is the pose the male takes on during the mating rituals, and that of the female protecting her young. Er... there have been voices criticizing the degree of, shall we say, idealization. But I believe we have reached a workable compromise," explained the chancellor, and then the porch blocked out the statues.

The trip into the city by shuttlebus was uneventful but for Riker taking an opportunity to murmur into his captain's ear: „Titles like _Aspiration_ and _Abomination_ and _Ad Astra_ – what _is_ it about government-sponsored art?" which gained him a distinctly pained look. The chancellor was chatting away happily.

„The school of art represented by Hyula is called... I think _metanaturalism_ would be a suitable translation. It aims at depicting natural phenomena in a way that interprets their true characteristics, their soul, if you like. It reaches beyond the transitory aspects of the individual animal to capture its essence. It is also the style favored for representational purposes by the present government of Yalnrag," the chancellor added, rather disarmingly. „If you are interested in art, Captain, the capital will have much to offer you. I don't know if there will be time, of course, but if you like I'll make it my business to find time for a visit to the artists' quarter in the Old City. In fact," he said, visibly warming to his subject, „the cabinet has already announced its intention of presenting you and the emissary with an example of contemporary Yalnragian art. I am sure everybody would be delighted if you would do us the honor of picking your choice..."

In front of an official-looking building in a large square they found another group of dignitaries waiting beneath a porch, another honor guard standing stoically in the rain, a bevy of journalists, and a crowd of spectators, some of whom were cheering. Secretary Ghanig introduced a portly female in an elaborate blue robe who appeared to be the capital's equivalent of a mayor, and who made a speech then and there. The speech was evidently addressed to the spectators as much as the visitors as it outlined the purpose of the _Enterprise_'s visit to Yalnrag. Riker felt free to ignore most of it, trying to assess the mood of the crowd instead. It felt friendly enough, more curious than anything else. He spotted a young-looking woman – slimmer than the men, sporting a smaller comb and a slightly ruddier skin with what looked almost like freckles – looking at the group with rapt attention, and gave her a friendly grin, and then, to his relief, the speech was over. A band of soldiers played something on a selection of wind instruments that might have interested him if the sound (wavering, he thought, like a clear jelly) had been slightly more pleasant to his ears, the crowd cheered, and the chancellor addressed a few words to the audience. Very soon they were guided down a flight of steps to a yard where a few hovercraft vehicles were waiting, gleaming in the drizzle.

„What's next? The hospital or the university?" whispered Riker to Tyr-Aurell as they slid into the seats of one of them. The _Enterprise_ party had the vehicle to themselves after Worf had refused, silently but very eloquently, to be parted from the captain who was to have shared the chancellor's craft.

„The university," she answered, and turned to smile at a few people who had gathered at the entrance to the yard. A child was waving a small blue flag, and she made sure to catch his eye and wave back just before the vehicle started off. „Commander, did you notice that just about every building here has a porch?"

„Now you mention it..." Riker frowned, looking out of the window. They were driving down a wide avenue lined with bluish, vaguely palm-like trees. „Do you have a theory, Emissary?"

„My theory is that this drizzle never stops," replied Tyr-Aurell with just a hint of irritation to her voice, studying the wet stains on the sleeves of her mauve tunic. From behind them Beverly Crusher's voice said: „Oh, but it will. In about a week. The rainy season is just passing into the dry season, and they have two of each kind. In other words, it's early spring."

„Quite warm for early spring," said Riker.

„It'll get warmer," promised Crusher.

By the time they got off their transport in front of yet another large building the rain had, in fact, stopped. A cluster of dignitaries were waiting on the steps, and there was a fair number of people Riker immediately and effortlessly identified as students. Secretary Ghanig introduced the rector, who then introduced the vice-rector and several department heads. Also present was the Honorable Sylnra, the science minister, who came forward to shake hands and then escorted all of them through an entrance hall and down a wide vaulted passageway to the Great Hall. There was a certain amount of jostling when the chancellor joined Picard again as the lughan immediately and pointedly assumed a position just behind the Eminent Nyk, almost colliding with Worf, who gave him an ugly look as he took his own seat, and proceeded to ignore him after that.

The hall was huge, and packed to capacity. The students who had been waiting in front of the building now appeared to have been those unable to find a place inside. There were chairs reserved in a semicircle behind a lectern – thin cushions suspended, hammock-like, from metal frames, with very low backs. The rector introduced the visitors, and there were cheers. The rector introduced the chancellor and the minister next, and Riker noticed, to his immense hilarity, that the cheering was notably less enthusiastic. In places there was even a rhythmic clacking sound apparently produced somewhere in the throat which sounded like disapproval. _Students_, he thought. The rector became slightly flustered, giving his guests an apologetic look as they took their seats, and launched into a speech about the role of universities in the shaping of the future. The audience applauded – Riker noted with interest that the applause was uttered in the form of a throaty, melodic-sounding hum. Nobody cheered. The science minister walked up to the lectern, and described the nature of the Federation's involvement in Yalnragian affairs, and the benefits to be gained from it. The applause was friendly but restrained. Secretary Ghanig leaned forward in his chair to look at Picard, but the captain had evidently memorized the proceedings well in advance; he was already on his feet and halfway to the lectern. Riker felt himself wondering, idly, how anybody could get out of these chairs with such apparent effortlessness. He looked round for entertainment, found none (with the possible exception of Worf, who appeared to be scanning the hall for potential assassins), and resigned himself to listening.

Picard's reply was a carefully rephrased version of something the first officer had heard about two dozen times before. By all appearances the professors were charmed, and the students at least were listening. Riker stifled a yawn. Tyr-Aurell joined the captain at the lectern, and gave a brief description of her work for the Federation, and by now Riker was fighting the temptation to lean back and lounge in the infernal chair – it was almost impossible to sit up straight in it. Worf to his left was looking decidedly unhappy, probably both because the chair offended his warrior's sensibilities and because the lectern obscured his view of the audience. To his right, Beverly Crusher was studying the mosaic on the back wall with rapt attention. It appeared to depict a stylized landscape with small, pale blue rectangles that looked ominously like ngahyak.

By now the rector was informing the students that the visitors would graciously consent to answer a few more questions, sounding as if he hoped they wouldn't avail themselves of the opportunity. A female with short fluffy hair promptly inquired about the chances of maintaining one's cultural identity in a multicultural organization. Tyr-Aurell replied earnestly that she felt she had never quite understood her own civilization before living in close contact with other cultures, which gained her some solemn nods and an amount of humming. _She's said that a dozen times before as well_, thought Riker. A lanky, hungry-eyed young male asked a couple of well-informed questions about Starfleet Academy, and entered Picard's answers into a small computer padd, and then the rector used the first suitable lull to declare the function over.

The tour of the university, including the new wing, took up the best part of two hours, and Riker was beginning to wish he'd had another roll for breakfast. A pack of journalists had joined them the moment they had left the hall, occasionally taking shortcuts and then waiting for them with their holocorders at the ready but most of the time keeping just close enough to make Worf nervous. At some stage the lughan assured him, with a mixture of irritation and familiarity, that his people had the situation well in hand; Riker could not hear Worf's reply, but he did hear the lughan's outraged hiss. So did Picard, judging from the slightly exasperated look he gave his first officer at that point. Evidently the altercation had been carried on for quite some time. Riker couldn't quite suppress a grin of both sympathy and unholy enjoyment. Very obviously, Worf was doing his job.

When at last they got back on their hovercraft he took the opportunity to ask Worf: „Hey, what's the time?"

„Approximately thirteen-twenty," Worf replied readily. „However, it is not yet noon. This planet has a twenty-nine hour day."

„Thanks. I knew _that_," muttered Riker, glumly. Unfortunately, Worf's inner clock was almost as reliable as Data's. He leaned back in his seat – disconcertingly low and deep, if not as bad as the chairs in the hall – and tried to look forward to their impending visit to the capital's newest and most prestigious model school.

As it turned out, the visit at least provided him with some entertainment. There was a speech by the principal, and another by the science minister, and a short one by Tyr-Aurell. A group of very small, scrubbed-looking children came forward to sing a song, with an elated-looking lady directing them. They were wearing uniform pale green tunics with silver brooches, and Riker noticed that at this age the comb was merely a kind of bulge; it was impossible for him to distinguish the males from the females. The discovery helped him through the song, which to his ears was sounding dissonant in the last degree – and he was unable to figure out if this was due to the nature of the composition, or the musical expertise of the performers. Afterwards two children came forward to present the captain and Tyr-Aurell with a bunch of flowers each, supervised by a beaming principal. Both accepted them gracefully, but the first officer found both of them surreptitiously looking round for an opportunity to dispose of them afterwards, without finding one. Tyr-Aurell ended up serenely carrying the bouquet in the crook of her arm during the entire tour of the institution. Picard, flowers in hand, happened to meet Riker's eyes when they left the entrance hall. The first officer felt the captain studying him thoughtfully for a few moments, and decided that his enjoyment of the situation must have been more obvious than intended. But either it hadn't been, or Picard decided to spare him out of the kindness of his heart. He turned to Beverly Crusher next, asking her to hold the flowers for him, thanked her, and walked on. By the time the doctor had figured it out the captain had caught up with the principal.

To no one's surprise they were well behind schedule by the time they had finished the tour. A snack lunch was waiting in the school's cantina, decorated for the occasion with flowers and childrens' drawings of ngahyak in every shape, pose, and color. Tyr-Aurell gave a delighted giggle as she examined them, and won the principal's heart by asking if she might keep one or two. The food consisted mainly of wafers or small pies, colored white, cream, and a disconcerting pale green, with a variety of fillings and a number of sauces, and the chancellor took it upon himself to guide Picard and Tyr-Aurell through the spread. Crusher had struck up a lively conversation with Minister Sylnra; Riker actually heard a sound which couldn't possibly be anything but laughter. He maneuvered himself into a chair next to Worf, who was just taking his place with a less-than-subtle glare back over his shoulder, in the direction of the lughan.

„Problem with that guy?" inquired Riker innocently.

„He is a poser and a fool," stated Worf. „He pretends to be looking out for dangers, wishing to be seen to be doing his duty more than to do it. His subordinates do not respect him. This man does not have true honor. I do not like to entrust the captain's safety to him."

_Nice evaluation, Worf,_ thought Riker. _Deanna would be proud_. Aloud and soothingly he said: „Well, it's probably just a matter of a couple of days. Let's face it, there'll be such a number of security around that it doesn't really matter."

Worf muttered something unconvinced-sounding, deftly lifting a pie with the aid of one of the small tongs-like devices provided and biting into it. Riker was looking on with a certain anticipation – after all these years he had quite a good idea what Worf was likely to appreciate, but occasionally the Klingon still managed to surprise him. Worf chewed thoughtfully, and Riker thought he saw a flicker of disappointment. „Well?" he asked.

„This is... bland," said Worf, having swallowed the bit, and reached for another bowl of sauce. Riker took a cautious nibble of his own choice. The verdict _bland_, from Worf, could mean anything.

In this particular case, he realized a moment later, _bland_ meant _bland_. „Tastes like cork to me," said the first officer, frowning and trying to work out a comfortable way of gripping a device designed for three-fingered beings.

„There are sauces. This is salty. These two are bland as well," said Worf. Riker sighed. Worf was being at his most encouraging. Then Secretary Ghanig took a seat opposite the first officer, sticking out his chin in an almost human gesture of polite interest.

„I hope our choice of refreshments meets your taste, Commander. These are _lilg_ – pastries, I think, would be your term."

„They're delicious," Riker replied promptly, lying through his teeth without hesitation. „And I particularly like this sauce. Can you enlighten me as to what it's made of?"

„Herbs, mostly. And a spice we call _sk_. It is the element that provides the burning sensation."

_Ah. The salt_, thought Riker, helping himself from another bowl of sauce this time. Ghanig refilled their cups with the drink that had been provided – something almost clear but very slightly milky-looking with a very, very faint sweet flavor. „Your captain expressed a liking for this condiment," he said eagerly, with a gesture at Riker's plate.

_Why?_ Riker found himself thinking, and then gave the answer himself: _Because everybody else was likely to go for the salty stuff_. „It's really hard to decide," he said. „But I'm beginning to look forward to that dinner tonight."

Ghanig looked at him with an expression that could only be delight. Worf was looking slightly startled, but went on eating nevertheless. „Ah. The buffet tonight will be very different. This is whitefood – you might say informal fare. Tonight you will be served darkfood, which is the customary thing for grand occasions."

Riker gave him a brilliant smile. „I hope you'll guide me through it, Secretary."

**x ****x x **


	11. Chapter 11

10

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter ****10**

„You know," said Beverly Crusher, dragging a comb through her hair, „right now all I want is to put on a robe, collapse on a sofa with some hot chocolate, and hope I'll have the energy to move to the bedroom later on. There's no skin left on my feet. Was it really necessary for the captain to encourage that union spokesman, or whatever he was, to start a discussion? With all the press there?"

„Oh, but I think it left a tremendous impression. The journalists loved it," replied Tyr-Aurell, who had just finished fastening teardrop-shaped iridescent gemstones in her ears.

„No doubt, but why do it at _all_?" demanded Beverly with some asperity. „We might have been out of there half an hour earlier."

„It strikes me," said Tyr-Aurell with a thoughtful-sounding purr to her voice, „that if we _had_ been out of there earlier the chancellor would have decided that there was time left to visit the hospital, after all."

Beverly grimaced but said nothing more. Tyr-Aurell took a small brush and started coloring the dent in her forehead a silvery rose. They had an hour and a half left before an antigrav vehicle would take them to the capital's Grand Theater; Beverly's dress uniform and Tyr-Aurell's gown had been waiting for them in the government's VIP quarters on their return from the tour, and Beverly's instincts told her that it was ten in the evening.

„What a wonderful color," Tyr-Aurell said suddenly. „What is it, eyeshadow?"„Yes. Would you like to try it?" Beverly held out the small box. Tyr-Aurell shook her head. „Thank you, but it really wouldn't go with my gown. It's lovely, though. You know, that dress uniform is very becoming."

„Thank you," said Beverly in her turn, genuinely pleased, and sat down to pull her boots on. „Oh dear. This is the interesting part. Oh!"

„What is it?"

„The boots. It's worse than I thought. I don't wear these very often. Oh, hell!"

„Perhaps you could change back into your normal uniform boots. The heels look more comfortable."

„After all that rain? They're a mess. And to be honest, I _could_ have had sensible heels. It's just that these do look so much better. But I can't walk in these things. Not all evening. This is ridiculous."

Tyr-Aurell was looking down on her own high-heeled, plum-colored velvet shoes (matching her stockings, naturally) with a rueful expression. „I must admit, I didn't expect to do quite so much walking today."

„Couldn't _you_ change back?"

„Into mauve shoes?" exclaimed Tyr-Aurell, sounding shocked for the first time the doctor had known her. Beverly giggled in spite of herself.

„Emissary, you're looking wonderful as you are, but quite frankly, I can't imagine that anybody would think twice. They don't know your culture's idea of well-matched colors, for one."

Tyr-Aurell considered. „No," she decided at last. „I can't. It's very tempting, but... no. And anyway, it _has_ been raining all day. Those shoes were soaked." She unscrewed a small container, and started putting silver mascara on her two rows of lashes. Beverly got to her feet, groaned, and joined her in front of the mirror.

„Please, feel free to use my make-up things if you like," she said, unstoppering her perfume flask. „Darn these get-to-know-us programs. I just hope the men are feeling as done as I am."

**x ****x x **

Down the corridor, in another of the very comfortable lounges set aside for state visitors, Riker slumped into an armchair and wriggled his toes. His collar was hanging open, his boots were at the other end of the room, and he suddenly realized that the chairs were proper chairs, not the infernal hammock-like things that had tortured his back all day long.

„Worf," he said, „won't you at least take that sash off? It must be really uncomfortable."

Worf gave him a slightly offended look. Too late Riker noticed that the Klingon was actually leaning back in his chair, which by Worf's standards probably meant that he was lounging. Otherwise his appearance was flawless – dress uniform boots gleaming, hair gathered into an immaculate pigtail. „Have it your own way," muttered Riker, settling deeper into his own chair.

The day was a blur. He remembered a few things – the boy with the flag, the huge mosaic in the main hall of the university, the immensely fat spokesman of the crafts guilds at the local equivalent of the town hall which had been the last stage of today's tour – but most of it was covered by a haze of exhaustion. _Might have been worse_, thought the first officer; _if we hadn't lost so much time at the university we would have been shown the hospital as well_. His feet hurt, his back ached, and his ears were still ringing with the speeches he had been listening to. Even the captain had shown signs of wilting. Right now Picard was sitting with his head against the back of his chair, his eyes closed and his feet on a stool, evidently enjoying the silence. So far he hadn't even closed the collar of his dress uniform.

_Feels like ten in the evening_, thought Riker, and then remembered that by his standards it _was_ ten in the evening. _Damn these eternal tours of the capital_. _And I won't even get a chance to explore this city_. On the _Enterprise_, after a grueling day like this, he'd now go for a drink in Ten Forward, tease Guinan, watch the female crew members, chat a little – anything to wind down before bed. He certainly wouldn't go for assorted bits of music of a type that didn't appeal to him, and a gala buffet of something Secretary Ghanig called _darkfood_.

As if on cue there was a jingle from the door. Worf got to his feet and went to answer it while Riker retrieved his dress uniform boots, groaning as he tried to get into footwear that suddenly seemed several sizes too small. „Are you quite sure those aren't _my_ boots you are wearing, Captain?"

Worf turned, giving him a look of such genuine surprise that Riker almost laughed out loud, in spite of his infernally aching feet. Picard barely opened his eyes. „Quite sure, Will."

„Ouch. Damn." He fell back into his chair, and followed the captain's example by putting his feet up. Worf returned with a small cart bearing a number of jugs and platters, a stack of plates, and a heater.„What's this? More of the cork-and-sponge pastries?"

„It appears to be a type of sandwiches, Commander. As well as deep-fried vegetables. And biscuits."

„Anything to drink?"

„Yes," said Worf. „We should now take the hyronalin tablets Doctor Crusher has provided."

„What?" Riker sat up. „You brought those along?"

„Naturally," replied Worf, stiffly. „She specifically asked me to remember them."

_Just like Beverly. Tell Worf so she won't have to tell the captain and myself_. „All right," he said, reaching for one of the sandwich-like things. It was yellowish, a little spongy, and spread with something salmon-colored. _Here goes_, thought Riker, biting off a corner. The taste was sweetish-bitterish as well as salty, and not much of either. He grimaced, finishing the thing off with two more bites. „Not recommended."

„Captain," said Worf just as Picard was reaching for something yellow and odd-looking on little sticks, „I did not like the chancellor's idea of a visit to the Old City and its workshops. You must not put yourself at risk."

„If today was anything to go by, I don't think I'll have the opportunity." Picard chewed thoughtfully, and then took another, just as thoughtfully.

Worf was not fooled, of course. „Captain. The Old City will be full of alleyways and blind corners. It is too dangerous. I do not trust the local security."

„But then you have assigned two of your own, haven't you?" Picard pointed out, innocently. For a moment Riker thought he could see Worf turning his eyes towards the ceiling. He also noticed that his captain was reaching for a third of the disconcerting-looking yellow things, and lost no time in securing one himself.

„That is not the point," said Worf with careful restraint. „They cannot be everywhere. There have been assassinations. I am responsible for your safety – I would prefer you not to take any risks."

Picard looked up at that, and smiled briefly. „Well, I certainly won't refuse a tour of their Old City on the grounds that their security can't be trusted, Mr. Worf. But I'll _try_ not to take risks."

Worf gave him a look that was reproachful, appealing, and grimly appreciative at the same time, and a curt nod. Riker took a cautious nibble of the yellow stuff. _Must be those vegetables_, he thought. They were actually quite edible. Worf was now destroying the biscuits with a determination that indicated a certain amount of frustration.

The jingle at the door and the announcement that their vehicle was ready came half an hour later. Riker started up and fiddled with his uniform collar, noticing at the same time that Worf had actually gone so far as to keep his sash _unfastened_ up to now. Picard got to his feet with a resigned little sigh and tugged down his dress uniform; Riker had a distinct impression that he had been half asleep. From Worf's direction came a soft growl around the words _diplomatic functions_, and then they joined the women in the corridor outside. Both were looking fabulous, and trying to look enthusiastic as well.

„How long do you think this will take?" asked Beverly, under her breath.

„Approximately till midnight," replied the captain just as softly.

As it happened, the affair took a little longer than that. After yet another speech by the science minister, and a brief one by the Estimable Illyg, a lady who appeared to be the head of the capital's Grand Theater as well as a general representative of cultural affairs, and a succession of special welcomes extended to the score or so of attending dignitaries, the performance lasted for about an hour and a half. It was a combination of music and a kind of ballet, or pantomime, representing a cross-section of Yalnragian traditions – so they had been told. Riker suffered through the first half of it, and fell asleep during the second, the infernally uncomfortable chairs notwithstanding. He woke with a start when Crusher dug her elbow into his ribcage. The audience was humming appreciatively, and Chancellor Nyk rose in his box just below them to bow solemnly in the direction of the stage. The captain promptly got to his feet as well, and Riker hastily followed his example, conjuring up an expression of eager delight and scanning the faces of his crewmates at the same time. Worf bore the stoic expression of a man determined to do his duty, and the women sported smiles. Picard appeared to be at his diplomatic best, but when they joined the local élite in the brightly lit lobby that had been set aside for the buffet Riker caught a slightly wistful and very tired smile just before the captain turned back, to be greeted enthusiastically once again by Chancellor Nyk.

The introductions over, Riker allowed Secretary Ghanig to guide him through the buffet as promised. „_Lilg_ again, I suppose?" he asked, pointing to a platter of small pastries colored a dark purplish brown.

„No. Lilg is a whitefood term. These are nalnru. The principle is the same, but you will find the taste quite different."

_Sounds promising_, thought Riker, taking one of them with his pair of tongs. Ghanig politely handed him a small bowl of sauce, almost beaming at him. Riker took a bite, and just managed to stop himself from coughing convulsively. The thing was bitter as hell, somewhat like green walnuts, if walnuts could be that bitter; he felt the corners of his mouth curling inwards, grabbed the bowl, and succeeded in scooping up half its contents with the rest of the pastry. The rather insipid taste of the stuff helped him swallow the remainder without disgracing himself beyond recovery. „Very different," he managed, eyes watering slightly. „Er – what's it made of?"

„The filling consists of spices and two vegetables. The crust is made of a meal produced from the bark of a tree. This sauce is called glyl, and it –" He interrupted himself. „Commander Riker, I am deeply sorry, but it seems that my presence is required by our hostess the Estimable Illyg. Let me tell you that it has been a pleasure to introduce you to some samples of our local cuisine. – I'll try to be back," he added, rather less formally, before hurrying away. Riker looked after him, tongs in hand, and thought: _He's really quite charming_. Not that he regretted being left to his own devices. He deposited the near-empty bowl on a tablet somewhere, and looked round for his crewmates. Picard was being monopolized by the chancellor, with both Worf and the lughan hovering nearby. The lughan had donned a blue dress uniform for the occasion but was looking as suspicious as earlier that day, seemingly dividing his attention between Worf and the rest of the room. Worf was dividing his between the captain and the crowd as usual. A cluster of dignitaries had gathered round Tyr-Aurell, who was sipping something amber-colored and chatting. Beverly Crusher stood scanning the buffet by herself. Riker joined her, and was greeted with a wry smile. „Hello, Will. I just thought I'd go and find something not entirely unpalatable before my stomach starts misbehaving. I'm _hungry_. How are you?"

„Tired," he replied promptly. „Don't eat those. They're awful."

„And don't _you_ try this. Tastes like pickled licorice." Some of the other guests were now within earshot, and Beverly quickly skewered something which for all the world looked like a coin-sized slice of tar, and added a spoonful of what might have been a very dark beetroot salad. „This is not my day," she murmured, just audibly, taking a small bowl of yellow sauce that apparently went with the tar before turning back to Riker. „My feet are killing me. Oh, and by the way, was that fourteen speeches today?"

„Depends on whether or not the captain's reply at the guilds' hall counts as one," he murmured back, watching in fascination as she started nibbling the tar, suppressed an involuntary grimace, and dipped the remainder in the sauce. „Ugh. This is _sweet_, Will. Tastes like concentrated caramel, only more so."

„And the sauce?"

„Tastes of nothing in particular."

_Aha_, thought Riker. _I think I get it now_. _Whitefood sauces provide taste, darkfood sauces dilute it. Good to know_. „Try the salad," he said, helpfully.

„Thanks. I will. Did I mention that this stuff does absolutely nothing for us? Our systems can't break it down. We'd starve on this planet. – Actually," she added, chewing, „this salad isn't so bad. On the salty side, but –" She poured some of the yellow sauce over it. „There. It's probably not the way it's supposed to be eaten, but this is... tell you the truth, it's the best thing I've found so far." She turned back towards the buffet with alacrity. „Let's get some more of this."

„Your new friend is going to join us," said Riker. „Minister Sylnra."

„Oh dear. He was so sorry we missed the hospital. He's very proud of it. Loves theater, by the way, I'll have to tell him... Minister, I was hoping for a chance to tell you how much I enjoyed the performance. Particularly the second piece – _Contemplations on a Rainy Spring_, wasn't it? Such grace. And such lovely costumes too."

Riker tiptoed away, leaving them to it. Worf was by now standing a little apart, halfway between the buffet and the captain, munching away while scanning the hall at the same time. Riker asked softly: „Found something you like?"

„This reminds me of my Human mother's cooking," replied Worf, indicating a platter of carrot-shaped purplish vegetables. Riker grabbed one of them with his tongs, popped it into his mouth, and gasped. The thing was both salty and sweet, and it was both to a degree that almost scorched his palate. He chewed hastily, swallowed it with a fierce effort, snatched a glass of the watery drink, and downed the contents in one gulp. „Reminds you of _what_?"

„Gherkins and honey," replied Worf matter-of-factly. „It is a traditional Russian dish."

„Ah," said Riker, somewhat lamely. Worf was looking past him with slightly narrowed eyes. „I do not like this."

„Then why –" began Riker, realizing a moment later that Worf wasn't talking about the food. The Klingon pushed past him, plate in hand; Riker turned in alarm, to see that a group of four or five people had joined the chancellor and the captain, hiding the two of them from view. _Is it my imagination, or is Worf acting a little more paranoid than usual?_ he thought, smiling at a lady who had been introduced as the Estimable Laylni, Mayor of Yalnrag-Myura. He actually remembered her. The lady of the porch. _Today's speech number one_. She was wearing something elaborate and many-layered that changed color when she moved, and promptly returned his smile. He was learning fast he realized – that pursing of the lips meant open-minded friendliness.

„So, how do you like it here, Commander Riker?"

„I love it," he replied promptly, grabbing two glasses from a tablet that was being carried past him and offering her one. She took it with a gracious little hum. The glasses had long chunky stems with a hole towards the upper end, and he now saw her insert the second of her three fingers through the hole, delicately balancing the cup with the other two. _I'll be damned_, he thought, following her example as well as he could. „Actually," he added, „I've rarely seen so many interesting things in the course of one single day." And never mind the fact that this day should have been over ages ago. It must be something like three a.m. on the _Enterprise_, and he was wishing himself back there.

„I am very glad. You'll understand – this city is my responsibility. We have invested much in our capital. This theater, for example – only four turns ago a reception like this one wouldn't have been possible. Now at least we can entertain visitors in a manner that truly represents our ways."

„And we couldn't have been entertained better. Mayor, if you wouldn't mind, I would love to learn more about your capital. We've been shown the new spaceport today..."

_Every reception in every capital on every planet is exactly the same as all the others. I bet they do things this way over in M-33_, he thought, catching a quick look in the direction of the captain. No help there. The chancellor was still chatting raptly.

**x ****x x **


	12. Chapter 12

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter ****11**

Lieutenant Worf strode through knee-deep bluish grass, checking the semicircle of tents and keeping an eye out for ngahyak, fanatics or anything else that might be encountered on this planet. It was mid-morning; a pale yellowish moon hung low in a lavender sky, and the grass was rustling in the warm breeze. There was a faint, tart smell to the air, a little like nutmeg. Humans might have thought the surroundings rather appealing – softly rolling countryside, low shrubs, high grass and unbroken peace. Lieutenant Worf couldn't have cared less. Half his mind was on organizing the camp as efficiently as possible, and as quickly as it could be managed. The other half was with his captain. They had returned to the _Enterprise_ that morning – Riker, Tyr-Aurell and himself. Doctor Crusher had remained behind – to their delight Secretary Ghanig and Minister Sylnra had managed to arrange a short tour of the hospital after all, especially for her. Picard had remained behind as well; in fact they had seen him only briefly on his way to a breakfast with Chancellor Nyk and the cabinet. Worf's security detail, Beya and Sanders, had been trailing after him.

They had beamed back down, without Riker, into this thinly-populated region – to find Ito and Melendez with a hand-picked team of technicians and scientists in possession. Camp had been pitched early that morning, and although Worf had no reason to suspect that anything important had been neglected he liked to make sure. He was just opening his mouth to comment on an unlabeled crate left out in the open for no obvious reason when suddenly a faint, all-too familiar screeching rose from the grass almost underfoot. He started violently, stopped in his tracks, and just managed not to jump backwards. The screeching continued; the little horror emerged from behind the crate, stopped right in front of his boots, and sat there emitting a sound that seemed to drill straight into his brain. Worf set his teeth and retreated with as much dignity as he could muster. Somehow he had managed to ban the miserable thing from his thoughts – hoping against hope, perhaps, that Tyr-Aurell might not bring it. And here it was.

The screeching stopped once he had backed off a few steps; a couple of seconds later the creature had evidently forgotten about his presence. He saw blades of grass bending in its immediate vicinity, and there was a soft chomping sound. It was eating he realized, and then he remembered what Beverly Crusher had told them about the bluish grass.

It was mildly toxic. Some native life-forms such as the ngahyak ate it, but it rendered the ngahyak's flesh inedible even for the Yalnragians. (Not that anyone would ever dream of killing and eating a ngahyak, the doctor had added rather hastily.) Thus the tribble was eating a toxic plant. Worf stood about five steps away, considering. 

He could pick up the animal and go in search of Tyr-Aurell, of course – a revolting thought. He could also leave it to its own devices, and let nature take its course. Most animals knew what was good for them. If the tribble was stupid enough to eat poisonous grass it deserved to die. Klingon logic, pure and simple.

Lieutenant Worf felt a tiny stab of conscience as he turned away, and proceeded to lose himself in his duties.

By early afternoon the _Enterprise_, in orbit high above them, had reported the approach of a small herd of ngahyak. Ten minutes later Tyr-Aurell, Commander Ito and another exobiologist, Ensign Robert, were lying in wait on the crest of a small hill, tricorders at the ready. Worf was there as well – not because he was in the least interested in a herd of ugly, useless animals but because it was his duty to protect Tyr-Aurell. The animals appeared at one end of the shallow dent stretching out below them, and proceeded to traverse it at a leisurely pace. There were eleven of them, including a couple of half-grown calves. The scientists whispered excitedly among themselves. A long-distance measuring unit was humming softly. „About two sixteen by three thirty-one... to thirty-four," muttered Robert. „That'll be the alpha male."

„Can't you get anything more precise?" hissed Ito.

„Not at this distance, sir."

„We'll have to get closer anyway," said Tyr-Aurell, stretched out on her stomach with a pair of binoculars clamped over her eyes. Down in the valley the animals were slowing, and several put their heads down to graze. „Can you see any guardians?"

„No, Emissary. – Perhaps this herd doesn't have any," Ensign Robert added hopefully.

„Don't count on it. They may keep out of sight. I wish I knew how old those calves are."

„Popular tradition says calves are born only when all three moons are visible," remarked Ito. „If that _was_ true we could pin it down to within a couple of days."

„It isn't," said Tyr-Aurell with conviction. „Wasn't there _some_ information about their gestation period?"

„I think Minister Sylnra said something about thirty-five weeks, but he wasn't too sure."

„And they have a nine-day week here. Well, it sounds plausible. We'll ask the guardians."

„They have steadfastly refused to supply data to scientists, Emissary."

„We'll ask them again," decided Tyr-Aurell, sounding rather like Picard to Worf's ears. By now Worf was beginning to admit to himself that he was feeling heartily bored. There seemed to be very little need for a protector. He had brought a tricorder (as well as his phaser), but his companions were evidently doing well enough without his assistance. The animals down there were grazing. The shrubs that hid the four of them from view were rustling. The first moon had vanished from the sky, and another, smaller moon had appeared. He found himself thinking of the captain. 

The night before when they were finally allowed to withdraw he had found an opportunity to speak with Picard, and to remind him of the importance of avoiding unnecessary risks. The captain had agreed with everything he said, which was gratifying – but Worf had a nagging suspicion that some of this reasonableness had been due to the fact that Picard was asleep on his feet, and thus meant nothing at all. Mentally, he heaved a sigh. The captain's blithe refusal to take proper care of himself became an immediate and constant worry the moment he had to let him out of his sight. And deep in his heart he _knew_ that no one else quite understood the issue. His thoughts promptly went to Beya and Sanders. He wondered, briefly, if he had made their duties clear enough, then realized that it must be nine hours now since he had last seen them – or the captain. _Nine_. All of a sudden he knew that he had to make sure – now. _I will call the capital_. 

He was about to withdraw, cautiously, when he became aware of a soft rustling somewhere behind and downhill from them. It sounded like an amateurish attempt at going stealthily, at least by his own standards – he could hear the grass bending under two pairs of feet. „Emissary," he hissed, turning to take a look and groping for his phaser at the same time. Two individuals were making their way towards them – Yalnragian males, dressed in billowing tunics and trousers of pale blue and green that almost merged with the background. Each carried a large oval tambourine on a strap slung over one shoulder. 

„Layghiar," Tyr-Aurell said softly. „Guardians. I don't think there is any danger, Lieutenant – I'll talk to them." She got to her feet, brushed a few seeds and dry stalks from her gray coveralls, and started off downhill to meet them. Worf drew his breath in through his teeth with a soft hiss. Then he flung Ito and Robert a brief „Wait here" before hurrying to catch up with her. Time to do his duty.

**x x x**

By the time a sleek executive antigrav vehicle had carried Chancellor Nyk and Picard back to the massive government complex the captain was beginning to feel slightly out of sorts. The interminable Yalnragian day was beginning to tell on him, and so was the company. After breakfast with the cabinet, and a dozen journalists, the next item on the agenda had been an informational visit to the national center of ngahyak studies which had taken just under seven hours, and included yet another unpalatable lunch. And when the chancellor introduced him to the team of lawyers and politicians responsible for drafting the preliminary outlines of the government's ngahyak laws Picard felt himself longing for a few minutes of silence and solitude. 

It wasn't to be, of course. „We are _so_ honored, Captain," said the Honorable Thulgig, minister for internal affairs, who appeared to be heading the team. „Please, take a seat. We'll bring you up to date on our recent progress. Chancellor, you'll be pleased to learn that we have found a turn of phrase that should preclude possible doubts about the respect we are paying to the Books of the Ancients. Er... Captain, do you wish your security to stay?" 

Picard shot his escort an annoyed look. „No," he said firmly. „Lieutenant, I'll thank you for waiting for me in the hall outside. Both of you," he added, prompted by a feeling that he couldn't possibly be too clear on the issue. Lieutenant Beya hesitated. 

„Captain, with all due respect –"

„_Outside_," the captain repeated, putting a certain stress on the consonants, and shut the door in Beya's face before sinking into a chair. „Thank you, Minister. I'm looking forward to this."

He wasn't, but at least it should give him an idea of what was expected of him, and getting rid of the security for the first time that day was progress of sorts. He could only guess at the sort of briefing the two had received from his ever-zealous security chief, but Worf must have made his point exceedingly clear. That much he could tell from the manner in which they had shouldered their way into the cabinet's breakfast room, the vehicle, the exhibition rooms and the cantina, utterly impervious to the annoyance of the local security, silent, watchful and single-minded. Sanders was fair and freckled, and Beya was dark, but they were a uniform six feet four by two, towering behind and above him like a wall, and after a day of it he was heartily tired of their attentions. _I'll be developing claustrophobia if this goes on_, he thought, wryly, and decided to have a word with them as soon as this meeting was over. Which, he realized the moment he gave his full attention to Minister Thulgig's exposition, wasn't likely to be anytime soon. _After all it's barely six hours after noon_, the captain recalled with a certain grim humor, trying to rearrange himself in the chair in a manner less damaging to his spine. 

**x x x**

It was all Lieutenant Worf could do to keep himself from fidgeting irritably on his camp stool. To his left, Tyr-Aurell was busy explaining, for the third time, that the use of tricorders constituted no insult to the status of the ngahyak, and was wholly incapable of doing any harm whatsoever to the animals. Somewhere behind his back the tribble was munching away, inaudible to anybody else but a constant strain on Worf's nerves. And right opposite the two layghiar were sitting cross-legged on the ground, listening attentively but evidently not convinced. 

They had been at it for the best part of two hours now. Ito, Melendez and the rest of the team were keeping out of sight, probably evaluating what little data had been gathered so far. For two hours Tyr-Aurell had been patiently listening and explaining, listening and explaining again.

„You have no intention of touching them?" demanded one of the layghiar.

„None at all. We'll make recordings, but we needn't get into physical contact with them."

„What about your tools? Will _they_ touch the ngahyak? We know there are subcutaneous transmitting devices..."

„There are. They cause the animal no discomfort at all. Most animals don't even notice being tagged."

„That is unimportant. These devices are an insult and an abomination. You cannot use them."

„Very well," said Tyr-Aurell after a moment, with what sounded like a tiny exasperated sigh to Worf. „We won't – I promise. They won't come into physical contact with anything we brought along."

„Including food?" said the second layghiar. 

„Including food. We won't feed them."

The two looked at one another, exchanging a few murmurs. Then the first layghiar spoke up again. „And you won't take anything away from them – no fur samples and the like?"

„Nothing. I give you my word. I told you, your government is watching this very closely. If you were to lodge any complaint at all the repercussions could be very unpleasant. Even if I had a mind to harm a ngahyak – and believe me, I haven't – I wouldn't risk endangering this mission." 

More murmuring, and a few quick finger signs. „You are a scientist specializing in endangered animals?"

„I'm a zoologist, and my specialty are disputes over animals. Quite often that means that I am studying endangered animals."

„Very well." Both layghiar stood. „We have your word, then," the spokesman said, „that you won't touch a ngahyak yourselves, and won't let it be touched by any of your devices. You won't hinder them or disturb them in any way at all, you won't do anything that could harm them, and you'll keep out of their way as much as you can."

„Yes. I can promise that."

„We will speak with our friends. You'll have our answer tonight." And with that, they turned on their heels and strode away. Worf gave a soft hiss of disgust, his first utterance in two hours.

„I _suppose_," said Tyr-Aurell, rising from her camp stool and stretching her back, „that didn't go too badly. I wonder if those animals are still within range?"

„You will not be able to tag them now," stated Worf. 

„No. It's very annoying. We'll have to get very detailed life-form readings on the individuals, feed them into the computer, and trust your ship's sensors to keep track of the creatures. What a waste of time and technology." She sighed. „Lieutenant, I apologize. There doesn't seem to be much to do for you here. Something tells me you'd rather be with your captain."

Worf started, suddenly remembering. „I was going to call," he said. „I will do so now." After a couple of hasty steps in the direction of his own small tent he stopped abruptly. He had forgotten about it in between, but now the munching sound forced itself upon him once again. For a moment he wavered between instinct and honor, grimacing with disgust; then honor won. „Emissary," he said with slightly hurried determination, „your pet appears to be eating this planet's grass. I believe it is toxic."

Tyr-Aurell tilted her head, listening. „Oh, yes. I think it's been doing that all day. It'll be all right – you wouldn't believe the things tribbles can eat without coming to any harm."

Worf just managed to suppress the snarl of frustration that rose in his throat. By all appearances he had been sacrificing his convictions for nothing. He had almost reached his tent when she called after him: „Lieutenant?"

„Yes, Emissary." He turned reluctantly. That call to the capital – 

„Thank you for pointing this out to me. I appreciate it."

„You are welcome," he managed, and escaped into the dimly lit interior of his tent.

**x x x**


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: Ff-net has been messing with the formatting again, and all my dividers have gone. I'll try to repair things, but it may take a while. Sorry for that...

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter ****12**

Beya and Sanders started up from the bench in the hall when Captain Picard emerged from the conference room. „Sir!" said Beya, and „Reporting for duty," added Sanders. Picard looked them up and down with a notable lack of enthusiasm. The briefing had taken almost two hours, and he had rather hoped they would have gone away.

„Gentlemen," he said finally, „I want a word with you."

„Captain?"

„It's occurred to me that your presence here may not be required after all. As you may have noticed, this place is swarming with security. And I can hardly expect you to trail after me for the rest of the week, or however long this takes. So I suggest you take yourselves off. Consider it shore leave."

„Captain, with all due respect, we'd rather stay with you," said Beya. „Er... Lieutenant Worf has been quoting regulations to us. A security detail is standard procedure whenever there is reason to suspect that you might be in danger."

„Thank you, Lieutenant, I know the regulations. As it happens, I _have_ a security detail whenever I'm leaving this complex."

„One of the recent assassinations took place in the chamber of a provincial government, sir." Lieutenant Beya suddenly realized that there had been a reason for the very extensive briefing Worf had insisted upon. „That would suggest that the normal precautions may not be sufficient. We're under direct orders from Lieutenant Worf."

„You may find yourself under direct orders from _me_ soon," muttered Picard. „For the moment just stop breathing down my neck, then. I'm going to my quarters now anyway."

„We have been told that dinner with Ministers Thulgig and Sylnra will be in about an hour," said Sanders. Picard frowned.

„You have? By whom?"

„By someone from Planetary Security, Captain. The lughan sent him round to tell us that Lieutenant Worf had been calling his office, inquiring after you."

„Really," said Picard. He was tempted to add that he thought the exchange of information on his welfare and whereabouts excessive, but in the end he only remarked: „I'll thank you for keeping out of sight for the next hour at least," before turning on his heel and heading down the hall. Beya and Sanders looked at each other.

„What now?" asked Sanders.

The captain made his way down a sweeping staircase into the entrance hall, all glass and bluish stone and some metal that looked like a blend of copper and brass, and out into the grounds. The lawns, divided by curving walks, were of two distinctly different colors – the faded-looking blue and a yellowish gray. Rows of white and pink flowers were planted across them. There were trees, mostly short-stemmed palm-like specimens with leaves of yet another shade of grayish blue. Picard had yet to see a bird on this planet, but there were large lizards that appeared to be living in the trees, colored a bright orange. He saw a few of them peering down on him as he made his way to the government's guest quarters.

They were situated at a little distance from the other buildings – in fact an antigrav was stationed there at all times, waiting for him in case the five minutes' walk should prove too much of a bother. As it happened, Picard was grateful for the brief moment of peace and quiet, even though Beverly Crusher's admonitions regarding Yalnrag's formidable radiation were still ringing in his ears. He could just feel himself beginning to wind down when an odd little sound caught his attention. It was coming from the direction of a large decorative arrangement of rocks off to his left, and sounded as if someone had accidentally dislodged a stone.

There was nothing to be seen, and the captain frowned a little without slowing down. He even found himself thinking something like _Don't tell me that's an assassin waiting there, Worf would _kill_ me_ – just when a small avalanche of stones came down the artificial slope, and with it a man who somehow kept his feet, and a moment later was lurching towards him with an inarticulate cry.

Instinct and Starfleet training took over from there, and the captain's boot caught the man just below the ribcage; he tumbled backwards with a hoarse shout of „Captain Picard!," ending up on the gravelled walk with a crunching thud and a groan. Picard remained where he was, bracing himself for another attack but somehow certain there wouldn't be one. The man's face was vaguely familiar. „Who are you?" he demanded, keeping a cautious distance as the Yalnragian was beginning to pick himself up. „Didn't you –"

Beya and Sanders appeared from nowhere before he could finish the sentence, crashing down upon the hapless attacker and dragging him to his feet between them. Beya was aiming a phaser at the man's face. „Captain, are you all right?"

„Perfectly," replied Picard. „Don't dislocate his arms. I think I remember you – weren't you at the university yesterday? In the Great Hall?"

„Yes!" cried the man, and Picard thought he could see something like fierce hope flaring in his face. „I didn't want to startle you, Captain! I had to find you – there's something I must ask you –" He made an attempt to pull away from the security, prompting Beya to push his phaser even closer, and Picard said: „Let him go."

„Sir!"

„Let him go," repeated the captain, and the two obeyed. Sanders was drawing a phaser as well. „Just don't get any closer," he muttered, menacingly, and the man gave a vigorous nod.

„Very well," said Picard. „I'm listening."

The young man drew a breath, pulling himself up a little. „Starfleet, Captain. I want to join Starfleet. I know there's an academy. I wish to study there. How do I go about it?"

„_That's it_?" gasped Beya.

„They wouldn't let me in. They said you wouldn't see me, this is an important diplomatic affair. I know it is – I'm sorry. But I had to see you. So I got in by myself."

„I understand," said Picard, trying not to sound as amused as he felt. „What's your name?"

„Nilnram Su, Captain Picard."

„I'll have the information you want left at the gate for you. But please, don't alarm my security again."

„I... I... no, Captain Picard. I won't. Er... I'm very – that is, thank you very much."

„You're quite welcome," replied the captain, composedly, and after a brief moment of slightly stunned silence the man gave a jerky nod and shot past him. They could hear the steps retreating on the gravel.

„Well!" said Picard. „No doubt I'll see you at the dinner tonight, gentlemen." And with that he resumed his walk. Beya and Sanders looked after him, thunderstruck and feeling slightly foolish.

„I don't believe this," said Sanders.

„Worf was right," added Beya, grimly, holstering his phaser.

„What next? He _still_ doesn't want us round."

„Improvise," said Beya with a shrug.

**x ****x x **

Lieutenant Worf was not happy to say the least.

Darkness had fallen; a third moon, pale gold in color, had appeared in the sky while the second was still visible, and between them they bathed the landscape in soft light. From where he stood, just outside the camp, he could see figures moving between the tents. He could hear the sounds of the guitar Ensign Robert had brought along, and had been strumming relentlessly ever since dinner. He could hear snatches of conversation as the scientists were preparing for another excursion. He could even hear the nauseating trill of a contented tribble. He was bored, and on edge, and longing to be elsewhere.

He had borne with the layghiar, who had returned just in time to be invited to dinner, bringing two more of their order and agreeing to let the mission proceed. Afterwards he had called the lughan's office in the capital for the second time, and been told, for the second time, that the captain was well but unavailable. He had then decided to take a stroll in the warm evening – to make sure everything was safe and in order, he told himself, but in actual fact to alleviate the restlessness and boredom and exasperation that had been growing all day long. And now, returning from his stroll, he felt as restless and bored and exasperated as ever before. He considered returning to his tent, and calling the capital.

From somewhere in the distance he could now hear, faintly, a sound he immediately recognized – the mating bray of a ngahyak. A kind of discordant screech sliding down the scale in a nerve-racking manner to lead into a series of short barks, followed, no doubt, by pawing, charging, and ramming. Worf's upper lip curled back in disgust. Ngaaah-yak-yak-yak indeed. He hoped they wouldn't come any closer.

A slim figure had emerged from the semicircle of tents, coming towards him. The feline grace and silver hair were unmistakable, and he went to meet her halfway. „Are you leaving now, Emissary?"

„Yes, we are. Those animals are on the other side of that hill. Lieutenant, you really needn't come. There's no danger at all – unless, of course, you've met one during your walk," she added with a hint of a purr to her voice.

But Worf refused to be baited. „I have not," he replied. „But I will accompany you nevertheless."

„You could keep an eye on the camp while we are gone – you might find that slightly less frustrating." The purr was definitely stronger now.

„My orders are to watch over _you_, Emissary." And besides, she probably wouldn't be taking the tribble on this excursion.

„Lieutenant, you are a remarkable man. And your captain must be even more remarkable than I have found him."

Worf looked after her with a slight frown as she turned and started back towards the tents. For some reason he had just received a tremendous compliment – of that he was quite sure. But in that case – why did he have a vague suspicion that she was laughing at him at the same time?

He shook his head and went to join the others.

**x ****x x **

On entering his quarters later that day Captain Picard stood for a moment to savor the silence, and then forced his mind away from the overwhelming wish to collapse in the nearest chair – he had a strong feeling that if he did he might never get to his feet again. The dinner with the two ministers and their staff (as well as Beya and Sanders) had been friendly and even productive, but the food had been as unpalatable as usual, and it must be close to midnight again – Yalnragian midnight.

The living room was stiflingly hot he noticed a moment later. It had been unpleasantly warm earlier that day; he had fumbled with the unfamiliar heating controls, and ended up with the conclusion that the setting was as low as it was going to get. Yalnragians liked their living quarters warm. By now the temperature had reached levels that would make sleeping all but impossible. Picard frowned, for a moment considering to call someone from Planetary Security and have the heating switched off entirely. This was ridiculous.

He found himself contemplating the window. It looked out over a walled garden, lit by one of Yalnrag's three (or was it four?) moons. The night had grown cooler – the walk through the grounds had been pleasantly refreshing. If only he could –

Then the solution occurred to him. Of course – there was an _atmosphere_ out there. This was not a starship. He should be able to _open_ these windows.

With an involuntary sigh and a shake of his head he went over to have a look.

The window was a complicated arrangement of small, individually framed rectangles and squares, decorative but confusing. He tried one little knob and then another, and was just admitting to himself that he was beginning to feel slightly foolish when all of a sudden the whole thing swung outwards. The window revolved on a vertical axis, which meant that half of it extended into the open now, and the other half bumped into his back. For a moment he found himself wondering if the thing had ever been _meant_ to be opened – but then he decided that he really couldn't be bothered at this stage.

He drew a deep breath, feeling the night air cooling his burning face. There were trees at the bottom of the garden. The rustle sounded odd, there was a hissing sound to it, but still it was the rustle of trees in a breeze. And the air in the room was already growing more bearable.

_Much better_. The captain was turning towards the bedroom door, fully determined to try the same thing in the rest of his suite, when the small portable monitor sitting on a desk in the corner emitted a shrill little three-note signal. Picard frowned and went over to it. _What now?_

„Yes," he said, hitting a key. Instead of the Yalnragian functionary he had been expecting the face of his own Chief of Security appeared on the screen.

„Lieutenant, what's the matter?" The captain was trying hard not to sound as tired and impatient as he felt at first. Then it occurred to him that something might have happened at Worf's end. „Is everything all right with the Emissary?" he added quickly.

„The -" Worf was refocusing visibly. „Yes, sir. She is very well."

„Then what is it?"

„I am merely making sure everything is all right with _you_, Captain. They told me the meeting had just ended. I have been put off twice today." There was actually a trace of miffedness to Worf's voice. Picard drew a deep breath.

„Lieutenant, I am perfectly fine except for the fact that I can't get a moment's respite from my own security. And if I were not I am sure your henchmen would have told you by now." _I just hope they don't mention that student_, he found himself thinking. Worf was answering before he could continue.

„It is my duty to do everything I can to ensure your safety," the Klingon said inexorably. „The situation here is well in hand. There does not appear to be any danger to the Emissary. Thus I am at liberty to make sure about you, sir. Besides, Doctor Crusher called to remind us of the hyronalin tablets."

„Oh, I see," said Picard. „Yes, of course. I appreciate your diligence, Lieutenant. I'll certainly try to keep them in mind. But I'd also appreciate it if you would just stop calling the capital for no better reason than the fact that you are bored. I can assure you, your subordinates are doing an excellent job. As for me, I am about to retire, and I strongly suggest you do the same. Picard out." And he cleared the screen before Worf could even open his mouth to reply.

**x ****x x **

Worf stared at the blank monitor, somewhat taken aback. The captain wasn't Betazoid. He knew that. The captain was fully Human. But sometimes he, Worf, found himself wondering nevertheless.

**x ****x x **


	14. Chapter 14

13

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter ****13**

„_Water samples_?" said Lieutenant Worf.

„Water samples," confirmed Tyr-Aurell, both hands on the container she had just set down on the folding table in Worf's tent. „There's a river about nine kilometers south of here. It's not strictly part of our mission, of course, but it would give us valuable additional data. Do you mind?"

„Emissary," said Worf carefully, „my assignment is to protect you. I am not a scientist, and I cannot ensure your safety from a distance of nine kilometers."

„True enough." She gave him a charming smile. „But then you have noticed that there's nothing here to protect me from. You're bored out of your mind, Lieutenant. You don't want to spend your day watching ngahyak, and quite frankly, you are driving me to distraction. I'll take full responsibility, of course."

„With all due respect, Emissary, you cannot. It is _my_ responsibility." Worf frowned. In actual fact the prospect of an eighteen-kilometer walk, out of sight and out of hearing of the tribble, Ensign Robert's guitar, and possibly even the ngahyak, was quite appealing. Tyr-Aurell was looking at him expectantly. „I would not be able to contact the capital," he added abruptly.

„But didn't you ask for a daily report? And to be informed of anything unusual immediately?"

„Yes."

„Well, you could take a communicator. The moment anything happens we'll contact you. Someone will remain in the camp at all times."

Worf hesitated, and Tyr-Aurell smiled at him. „Lieutenant Worf, I'll make it easier for you – I'm making this an order. You are free to complain to your captain, of course, but I hate to see you wasting your time and kicking your heels, and you are no help whatsoever here. Get going. We'll hold dinner for you."

Once on his way, the sample container slung over his shoulder, Worf found that he didn't resent his dismissal as much as he might have. The day hadn't got off to a promising start. He hadn't slept much during the night, thanks to the ngahyak whose braying, barking, galloping and ramming had kept him awake until well past midnight. After breakfast he had returned to his tent to find the tribble in possession, purring contentedly underneath the table that held his monitor. A well-aimed kick would have rid the premises of it. But then of course he couldn't do that. And since he wouldn't touch it either he had had to shoo it outside with the help of a padd, feeling foolish and hoping desperately that nobody would be wanting to see him just then – and naturally the thing had started screeching pitifully halfway to the entrance.

To make matters worse the layghiar had announced that they would be around to ward off evil from the ngahyak. By all appearances they did this by plying their tambourines whenever the animals laid down to rest, which usually happened during the hot mid-day hours. And while Worf felt that he could possibly bear with the ngahyak, the tribble, the guitar, and the rest of this ridiculous assignment, he was quite sure that he couldn't bear with the continuous thrumming of half a dozen tambourines.

Not that the task of collecting water samples appealed to him. He hadn't collected water samples since his days as an ensign. And he hadn't enjoyed it at the time. More specifically, he had considered it below his dignity – even then.

And of course he couldn't call the capital while he was jogging through singularly uninteresting countryside.

Lieutenant Worf slowed down at that thought, and frowned. The captain hadn't forbidden him to call – exactly. He _had_ made it clear that further calls would not be appreciated. Obviously, he would have to call Beya and Sanders next time. If only he could be sure that the two were taking care of the captain.

He slowed down some more when, from the top of a hill, he spied a herd of ngahyak in the dell below, grazing in the faintly lavender-tinted morning sun. He counted twenty-eight of them, and no layghiar. For a moment he just stood there, watching them with loathing and wondering if the ugly, noisy, quarrelsome, useless brutes would at least make good hunting.

But then Tyr-Aurell had given her word of honor that they wouldn't be disturbed or harmed in any way. And Worf had to admit to himself that the experiment he had in mind would have constituted a disturbance. Quite possibly a harmful one.

With a sigh, he turned back to find a way around them.

**x ****x x **

„Captain Picard," said Chancellor Nyk a little nervously, „let me apologize in advance for the behavior you may have to face in this room – I hope I'll be proven wrong. Please understand, I am sure that everyone on the Council serves the best interests of Yalnrag. But as I have had occasion to mention before, the faction advocating complete liberty and complete protection for the ngahyak is small but vocal. The arrival of your ship must have convinced some of them that the Federation is taking their concerns seriously, but..."

„I quite understand, Chancellor," said Picard. „I won't be offended."

„I have asked security to be present," added the chancellor. „Just to be on the safe side – on one occasion it has come to blows between representatives."

The captain brightened. „In that case – will you give me a moment, Chancellor? I'll join you straight away." The moment the door had closed behind the Eminent Nyk Picard turned towards Beya and Sanders. „You heard that, gentlemen. This will take all day, and Planetary Security will be present. You can take a break."

Beya looked dubious. „We're supposed to be on duty, sir."

„Not from this moment. Go see the sights. There's a center of ngahyak studies –"

„But sir, we've already been there."

„I'm sure you missed most of it, having to look after me," the captain replied somewhat testily. „In case I'm not making myself clear, I want you to _leave_. Oh, yes, there's an artists' quarter in the Old City as well. Why don't you go buy a souvenir for your girlfriends."

„We don't have girlfriends, sir."

„Sisters, then."

„Er... neither of us has a sister, Captain," said Sanders.

„Do you have mothers?" inquired the captain with a trace of exasperation, mentally adding _or did Worf grow you in a laboratory?_

Beya nodded, a little reluctantly. „Yes, sir."

„I'm relieved. Go buy a gift for your mothers. Go for a walk. Just _go_." And with that he disappeared through the door of the conference room.

Beya and Sanders looked at each other.

„He meant it," said Sanders.

„Worf meant it too," replied Beya, gloomily.

„Well, what if he comes back out and sees us still hanging round? He'll blast us."

„What if Worf calls and finds we're not where we're supposed to be? Anyway, the captain shouldn't even notice we're still here. He said this is going to take all day."

„Great," said Sanders, slumping down on a bench in the hall. „So we spend the next thirteen hours here?"

„If you have a better idea..."

„No." Sanders put the padd he had brought along down on the bench and pressed a key. „There. What's it going to be – halma, checkers, backgammon?"

**x ****x x **

At about the same time Commander Riker came strolling into the _Enterprise_'s Ten Forward lounge. It might be mid-morning on Yalnrag, but it was definitely evening on the ship, and Riker had every intention of enjoying his time off.

„Whiskey, Riker?" asked Guinan slyly, almost as soon as he had taken a stool at the bar. „On the rocks?"

„Just what I'm in the mood for." He gave her his best smile. Ever since he had discovered that she knew about his little ploy he had felt a need to placate her – even though she evidently didn't expect placating. He had a feeling that she simply waited for Fate to exact her revenge upon him. Or possibly Worf.

„So, how is everybody down on that planet?" she asked as she put the glass down in front of him.

„Tyr-Aurell and the team love it. Worf hates it. And the captain is doing his duty."

„And the animal?" she asked.

„Enjoying itself I hope." He saluted her with his glass. „Apparently the layghiar saw it and approved of its presence. Melendez tells me they interpret it as a kind of friendly guardian. So you see, it was a good idea to take it along."

„But did you ever doubt that?" replied Guinan, soulfully.

**x ****x x **

„The captain," stated Representative Glanyl, member of the Council and head of a faction called the Layulnar (which term, according to Secretary Ghanig, described a „traditional and openminded" attitude), „cannot possibly understand the full implications of the step he is asking us to take. The chancellor does, however. Chancellor, let me ask you why you invited an offworlder to speak for you?"

Picard was tempted to remind the assembly that he hadn't asked anybody to take any steps whatsoever, but he refrained from comment. Chancellor Nyk threw up his expressive three-fingered hands in well-acted exasperation.

„Captain Picard is here as a representative of the Federation, not of any local faction. A mediator, if you wouldn't insist on treating him as an adversary. Your attitude, Estimable Member, borders on the paranoid. The captain is an expert on –"

„Our beliefs? Endangered species? Ngahyak issues?" interrupted another representative. „The _Enterprise_ has brought an expert we _would_ listen to, but she is conveniently unavailable. We don't doubt your good faith, Captain, but you'll forgive me for saying that there isn't much to qualify you for this... er... delicate business."

„Just his rank and service record and his membership in an organization called the _Animal Sanctity Association_," hissed the Honorable Thulgig, minister for internal affairs, indignantly. The captain froze, and just managed not to swallow the wrong way as every head in the room snapped round. There was a brief and stunned pause.

„Is this true?" asked Representative Glanyl at length, in a markedly altered voice.

„Captain, I apologize," his colleague whispered almost reverently.

„It was never even _mentioned_ in the documents we received!" another representative added in amazement.

„I... well, in fact –" It wasn't often that Picard found himself at a loss for words, but right now the only thing that came to mind was what he would be saying to Will Riker the next time he spoke to him. „I had no intention of misleading you," he managed in the end. „Er... to be honest, it's not even a large organization."

„Are you telling us that you didn't want to prejudice us in your favor?" asked Representative Glanyl, stunned. „You are working for a small organization propagating animal sanctity, and you didn't wish us to know about it? Captain, this is –"

„No, no!" interrupted Picard, desperately. „My... well, failing to inform you... was quite unintentional. Really, it just didn't occur to me that my… membership… would have any bearing on this mission."

And then there was another moment of utter silence.

„I never believed in the selflessness of your position," the Estimable Glanyl said very slowly. „Not for a moment, not until now. Captain Picard, I believe you have just gained the deepest respect of this meeting."

„Quite right," agreed Chancellor Nyk, radiantly.

„Thank you," said Picard in a slightly choking voice, resisting the temptation to bury his face in his hands and wishing himself a thousand light-years away. Or just aboard his ship, orbiting somewhere out of reach. Even the ngahyak-infested place that drove Worf to distraction would have done nicely. „Um... perhaps we should just get back to the issue?"

„Of course, Captain," Representative Glanyl said instantly.

**x ****x x **

The first thing Worf saw on his return to the camp was Lieutenant Melendez, half-hidden behind an easel she had put up on one of the surrounding slopes and painting away furiously in the fading light. „Hello, Lieutenant," she said on seeing him approaching, giving him a friendly smile and disappearing behind her work again. Worf walked round to stand behind her and have a look.

He could see it was a landscape. He could even see that it was the landscape he saw beyond the easel. One moon, large and apricot-colored, hung low in the sky. It hung low in the picture as well. Melendez' brush made little swishing noises as she filled in bits of a hillside with an odd-looking slate blue. Worf frowned, trying to think of a reason why anyone should wish to portray a landscape so utterly without interest. Or in fact any landscape at all. After another minute of it he gave up and made for the tents. They hadn't contacted him all day, which meant, presumably, that they hadn't been contacted by the capital. In any case it was high time to call Beya and Sanders.

There was no guitar to be heard, which was a relief. But as he approached his own dwelling another, very odd sound struck his ears. A faint, shrill wailing, just on the edge of hearing. It sounded rather like a tribble, he thought with a sense of foreboding.

On entering his tent the sound hit him like a projectile. It was the tribble all right. His eyes adjusted to the near-darkness within seconds, and he could see it sitting on his narrow folding bed, squealing away in misery. If a creature resembling a furry grapefruit could look hunched up, the tribble was looking hunched up.

Worf set his teeth and approached it, realizing with disgust that he would have to pick up the blanket and shake it to get rid of the creature – and get a new blanket afterwards. He shuddered. No doubt there were tribble hairs on it now. Something was evidently ailing the pathetic vermin, but he didn't much care what – he simply wondered why it had to be _his_ tent. Then he noticed the box of hyronalin tablets.

It must have tumbled off the table he realized, and now it was on the bed, open. A few tablets were scattered about. A very few tablets.

He went closer, circling the bed to get a better look. The wailing went up a notch, and he grimaced as the sound seemed to be drilling straight into his brain. But something else had caught his attention now. Apart from the scattered tablets the box was empty. Quite empty. There was only one explanation. The tribble had eaten eight people's two weeks' supply of hyronalin tablets.

_It is sick_, he thought, feeling a rush of savage satisfaction. _It will die now_.

It wasn't going to die in his tent, though. He drew a deep breath, grabbed the blanket by two corners, folded it into a sack containing the tribble, the box and the tablets, and carried the bundle outside. A few steps from his tent he shook it out. The wailing never stopped as the tribble rolled away into the grass.

Worf picked up the empty container, and went to find Tyr-Aurell.

She was sitting on a stool close to a small fire someone had lit in the open space surrounded by the tents, watching Ensign Robert who was handling a frying pan with expert movements. The rest of the team were scattered about, the firelight flickering on their faces. A pleasant smell greeted Worf as he approached them.

„There you are, Lieutenant," said Tyr-Aurell, smiling up at him. „Just look at this. I told you we'd hold dinner for you. Do you like pancakes?"

Worf did. And in spite of himself he felt a tiny stab of conscience. Almost as if he had caused the tribble's untimely demise, rather than the creature's own stupidity.

„Emissary," he said, soberly. „Your pet has eaten our supply of hyronalin tablets. I believe it is dying."

„Oh, dear!" exclaimed Tyr-Aurell, rising to her feet rather hastily. „Where is it?"

„Over there." He led the way, guided by the faint squeal. In the near-darkness he could see her bending down to pick something up, and cradling it in the crook of her arm. The wailing subsided.

„Poor little thing. Not much of a brain, but a very robust stomach to make up for it. I really think it'll be all right. Thank you very much, Lieutenant – It was sweet of you to alert me."

Worf almost choked. It was several seconds before he could answer, and when he did there was a hint of a rasp to his voice. „It is my pleasure, Emissary." And with that he took refuge in his tent, the blood churning in his ears.

_Hyronalin tablets_, he thought in an attempt to distract himself. He was still responsible for the safety of the away team. And they were definitely running out of hyronalin tablets now. His small portable monitor was sitting on the table next to where the box had been. He went over and hit a key.

„Worf to _Enterprise_ sickbay."

It was about fifteen seconds before the face of Beverly Crusher herself appeared on the screen. She was looking faintly worried. „Yes, Worf? Sorry it took me so long, but I wasn't expecting… Is anything wrong down there?"

„No, Doctor. But we need more hyronalin tablets."

Crusher blinked. „More –?"

He nodded. „Yes."

The doctor hesitated for a moment. "Worf, I'm sure there hasn't been any negligence on your part" – she smiled briefly and somewhat perfunctorily – "_quite_ sure. But I have to say it – you have to be careful with chemicals that may affect a planet's system. I don't really believe that one box of hyronalin tablets that goes unaccounted for could possible have an adverse effect on –"

"With all due respect, Doctor," interrupted Worf, bristling just a little, "the tablets are not _unaccounted for_. They have been… consumed."

"They…" Beverly Crusher's expression went blank. "_Consumed?_"

Worf nodded, stony-faced. He'd be damned before he told her about the undignified goings-on in his tent, for the edification of the entire sickbay staff. He wasn't going to make a fool of himself. He had borne with all the dishonorable absurdity of this assignment; he had left his captain to the dubious protection of a manifest fool; he had worried, and fretted, and eaten his heart out all day while avoiding ngahyak and collecting water samples, a task better suited to an ensign in the science track; and now he was spending time that should be used calling the capital to make sure on yet another ridiculous task – but he wasn't going to regale Beverly Crusher with the reason why they needed more hyronalin tablets after barely two days of field studies.

„Worf," she finally said, gently and very softly, „look, it's not that I... well, of course I'll have another box beamed down to your coordinates. No problem. And I certainly know better than to question your… thoroughness. But I think I should remind you – all of you, that is – that one tablet a day is quite sufficient. Er... Crusher out."

The monitor went blank. And Lieutenant Worf, belatedly realizing that telling her might have been a good idea after all, stared at it numbly, wondering just how many humiliations this assignment might yet have in store for him.

**x ****x x **


	15. Chapter 15

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter ****14**

„Captain Picard, might I have a word with you?"

The captain stopped in mid-stride, looking up from the padd he had been reading. Beya and Sanders stopped as well. They had been on their way to the cabinet's conference room when the lughan intercepted them, wearing what Picard suspected to be a slightly officious expression.

„Of course. What is it?"

The head of Planetary Security gave a kind of sniff. Picard had felt before that the lughan's attitude towards himself had been cooling ever since he had arrived; but as he hadn't done anything to offend the man, and certainly wasn't putting him to any undue trouble, he had ignored it so far.

„Captain Picard, it has been suggested we supply you with one of our long-range communicators for the remainder of your stay. You would be able to communicate with your crewmates on this planet at all times."

Picard looked at him with a blank expression. „I'm sorry, Lughan – what makes you think I would _want_ to be available at all times?"

The lughan uttered a hum that could mean anything from embarrassment to pompous indignation. „Your security chief has seen fit to call my office again this morning, Captain. For the sixth time." A pause. „I have now promised to contact Lieutenant Worf once a day to provide him with a report. But as you have chosen to decline additional security, and the only party who appears at all worried is your security chief, this might be handled more easily between him and yourself."

The captain drew a deep breath. „I understand." At least he thought he did. The man was miffed because Picard wasn't worried enough about his own safety, and apparently felt flouted. _Really_, _I have better things to do than consider the sensibilities of the security I'm forced to drag along_. He could almost feel the smug satisfaction of Beya and Sanders in his back. _Not much longer_, he vowed to himself. _This is ridiculous_. „I appreciate your offer, but I don't think that will be necessary. In fact I am perfectly happy without one of your communicators." And being constantly at the mercy of an overprotective Klingon was about the last thing he needed – but he'd be damned before he said so. The lughan gave a stiff little bow, looking more offended than ever, and stepped aside without another word.

Beya and Sanders stopped in their tracks when, a few more meters down the hallway, the captain turned on his heel rather abruptly. „Is that man gone?"

Beya scanned the premises. „Seems like it, Captain."

„Very well. Listen, gentlemen. I want you to take yourselves off now. There isn't an assassin for miles around, and frankly you are getting on my nerves. I'll make it all right with Lieutenant Worf."

There was a short, slightly awkward pause. Then Beya cleared his throat. „With all due respect, sir, you can't do that if you're dead. And Worf will have our heads on a dish if anything happens to you. Better safe than sorry."

„Lieutenant," said Picard quite softly, and there was a clippedness to his voice now that hadn't been there before, „it seems I didn't make myself as clear as I had thought. Go away. That's a direct order."

Beya and Sanders exchanged a look. This was the moment they (and Lieutenant Worf, obviously) had been fearing. „Yes, sir," said Beya quickly. „Of course."

„Good," said Picard, and stood rooted to the spot, leaving them no choice but to retreat past the nearest corner.

„What now?" whispered Sanders.

**x x x **

„If our friends decide to turn up for lunch, you'll have to manage as best you can," Tyr-Aurell, tricorder in hand, informed Ensign Robert and Crewman Vassili. „We certainly won't be back till afternoon."

„Does that mean the layghiar joined you for lunch yesterday?" asked Worf, who had been watching the preparations from the entrance of his tent.

Tyr-Aurell nodded. „They turned up about two hours after you were gone, and I have a feeling they enjoy our food more than we enjoy theirs. They did a fair amount of drumming after lunch, too. They may well be back today, all five of them."

„_Five_?"

„Well, yes. Don't forget, it's the ngahyak mating season. They have to keep an eye on the animals." She tilted her head, looking at him thoughtfully. „Something tells me you'd rather not wait for them here, Lieutenant."

Worf frowned. She was right, of course. The layghiar strained what was left of his patience. On the other hand the lughan, despicable fool that he was, had just informed him that the captain had refused a Yalnragian communicator; thus leaving the camp meant leaving his monitor, and the only means of remaining in direct contact. Then of course he really should accompany Tyr-Aurell's team, but she had made it abundantly clear that she didn't want him. Not for the first time he found himself regretting that he had ever accepted this assignment.

„Of course," she now said, slowly, „there's something you _could_ do..."

Worf braced himself. He had a feeling that he knew what was coming. And then it came.

„There's a wooded area about eleven kilometers to the west. Ngahyak don't like woodland, so there won't be any there. But a few samples – you know, soil, flora, anything – could be of great help to us."

He _knew_ that she was offering him a way out. And he had to admit that she did it quite gracefully. The alternative was staying put – with Robert and Vassili, the tribble, and the layghiar.

And the monitor.

„They'll inform you the moment there is any news," she said with uncanny instinct. Her smile was both sympathetic and conspiratorial.

„Very well," he growled after a moment, turning back to get his sample kit.

He had his reward when, only five minutes after leaving the camp, he encountered a group of three layghiar – males wearing loose-fitting garb in pale blues and greens, their tambourines slung over their shoulders. They were evidently headed for the tents, and it wasn't even near lunchtime. He strode past them with a curt nod, thinking unfriendly thoughts.

The truth was, even though he might not have admitted it, that he was not only dispirited but tired as well. The interminable Yalnragian days were separated by equally interminable nights full of the din of mating ngahyak. He was beginning to recognize individuals by the timbre of their bray. And since he had lost his natural rhythm, and hadn't found a way to tire himself sufficiently during the days, he couldn't sleep at night. Besides – and now he had arrived back at the real problem – he was worried.

Striding through knee-deep bluish grass without wasting a thought on the countryside, Lieutenant Worf felt the first stirrings of guilt. What if someone from the capital was trying to call him at this precise moment? What if Beya and Sanders (lacking, naturally, both his warrior's instincts and his deep devotion to his job) had failed somehow?

For Heaven and Lieutenant Worf knew that a security officer's job was far from simple. It was only regulations that made it sound that. Protect the ship, her crew, and in particular, the captain. Worf had found out early that the job description was fine in theory but left ample room for interpretation, and moreover, that his captain was a master of interpretation.

Regulations for some reason always seemed to assume that captains willingly allowed themselves to be protected. Worf's experiences suggested otherwise. His captain's energy and unpredictable ideas made his job a difficult business. He hadn't been happy entrusting Picard to Beya and Sanders, he had done his best to brief them – and for all that he half-expected to be told something dreadful from the capital any moment. They didn't know the captain as well as he did. There _were_ assassins about. Picard would disregard the danger – he always did. And the Chief of Planetary Security was a fool, both unworthy and incapable of looking after the captain.

At this stage Lieutenant Worf almost turned back to the camp.

He stopped himself just in time, considered calling Robert and Vassili instead, just to make sure there had been no news, and decided against that too. They'd _tell_ him if there was.

For what it was worth. He, Worf, wasn't there to prevent whatever might be happening. He had spent part of the last two nights imagining hideous possibilities. Anything might happen while he wasn't about.

Worf threw a quick annoyed look round, forced his thoughts away from the subject, and drew his tricorder to check the direction. All around bluish grass rustled softly in the nutmeg-scented breeze. Gently rolling hills met a lavender sky. A pale moon was hanging low over the western horizon. Worf looked at it with disfavor, and closed his tricorder with a click. If ever he met that admirable woman again – what had been her name? Alya? No, Anya – he would tell her how right she had been. A true protector could not have more than one charge.

**x ****x x **

Quiet frustration had settled over Beya and Sanders, sitting side by side on a bench in a hallway of Yalnrag-Myura's government complex. Beya was shuffling a pack of cards. He had been shuffling it for the past three minutes, and his attention was clearly elsewhere.

„You know," said Sanders, „he's probably right. This place is swarming with security. Anyway, he handled that student, or whatever he was, well enough without us. From what I've heard a _lot_ of people have tried to kill him before."

„If you want to be the one explaining that to Worf..."

Silence. Just beyond the floor-length window opposite, trees were swaying gently in the faintly lavender-tinted sunlight. „Looks pretty," said Sanders.

Beya nodded glumly. After a little while he said: „If he happens to come this way, and sees us, we're done for. That was a direct order he gave us."

„Yes," Sanders pointed out, „but Worf _said_ we'd have to improvise. I mean, the captain may get angry, but he won't disembowel us. Worf just might."

„He will. If the captain is hurt we're dead meat." Beya gave a fatalistic shrug. „It's just that it doesn't seem to make a lot of difference where we were at the time – a corridor away or at the other end of the city."

„So we might as well –"

„In theory, yes... You weren't aboard that time they sent us down to Naalish, right?"

Sanders shook his head. „Before my time."

„That explains it," said Beya darkly. They relapsed into a depressed silence. About an hour ago some kindly soul had sent them a platter of sandwiches and a pale green, watery drink, delivered by an apologetic Yalnragian security man. The stuff tasted of nothing, but they had consumed it eagerly – it gave them something to do for all of ten minutes. Unfortunately both the platter and the jug were empty now.

After about a quarter of an hour Beya said abruptly: „Let's go."

„Go?" asked Sanders.

„Get out of here. See the sights. We'll be back before that session is over, tell the captain where we've been. He'll like it."

„Worf won't," said Sanders lamely, but it was rearguard action, and he knew it. Worf wasn't here. Picard was, very much so. And they were bored out of their minds, and the day was fine, and they had been given a direct order. There was only so much you could do.

**x ****x x **

By a rare stroke of good fortune the team working on the cabinet's official ngahyak strategy was finished early that day. Captain Picard, strolling down the hallway, reflected somewhat guiltily that the counterfeit halo he had obtained by _not_ telling them about his association with the A.S.A. (such as it was) might have something to do with it – by now they seemed to agree with almost everything he said. In any case he was being given a brief respite.

The security were probably out for a stroll through the city, which was fine with him. He hoped very much they were enjoying themselves. In fact, with any luck they were enjoying themselves so well they wouldn't return for hours.

That morning Doctor Crusher had called for a chat, and had ended up reminding him that he should eat at least one additional meal a day, provided by the replicator in his quarters which had been programmed with a few foodstuffs suitable for humans. He hadn't done anything of the sort so far – the continual working lunches, buffets and banquets with assorted politicians were bad enough.

„But that's my point exactly," she had said. „That way you're simply starving yourself without noticing."

„It's true, I don't feel starved at all," he had agreed, saluting her with his coffee cup – for breakfast was one thing he did procure from the replicator.

She had turned her eyes up towards the invisible ceiling of her office. „All right, all right. You'll pass out in the middle of a cabinet discussion. I'm looking forward to it. And I'll schedule a complete physical the moment you're back on board, see if I don't."

„Doctor, I believe you are playing power games."

She had given him a dazzling smile. „Yes, Jean-Luc. I'm rather enjoying it."

Picard was keenly aware of the fact that right now, at this moment, no one was fussing over him. He had every intention of stretching the moment as far as possible. It was still early in the afternoon, and Secretary Ghanig had told him he would be available for a tour of the Old City should the captain feel inclined.

_Do I feel inclined?_ he wondered, stepping out into the porch and pausing to take in the sunlit grounds. For now he was quite content simply to savor the peace and quiet.

He'd go for a walk in the grounds he decided. Afterwards he might very well call on Secretary Ghanig and ask to be shown the Old City.

He had hardly left the shelter of the porch when a crunching sound behind and above him caused him to snap round, instinctively bracing himself. Someone was tumbling down onto the walk – someone who must have been lying in wait on the roof. Small stones, dead leaves and other debris came raining down along with him. „Captain Picard!" an urgent voice cried from the tangle of arms and legs.

The captain took two steps back, squinting in disbelief. The individual was picking himself up and raising both hands to show that he wasn't carrying a weapon. Picard recognized him now. That lanky student again – what was his name? Nilnram something or other. Nilnram Su.

He drew a deep breath, trying to sound unsurprised. „Hello again. What is it this time?"

„I'm sorry, Captain." The man gave him the Yalnragian equivalent of a nervous smile. „I'm... that's to say, thank you very much for the documents about Starfleet Academy. It is wonderful. It is all I was hoping for. It's just..." He coughed, fingering a slight tear in his drab-colored tunic. „I really don't want to inconvenience you, but as long as Yalnrag isn't a member of the Federation, I can't apply to Starfleet Academy without a recommendation."

„And now you want _me_ to recommend you?" By now Picard wasn't even feeling surprised. The whole thing had an unreal quality to it. „But Yalnrag is applying for Federation membership this moment."

„It'll take years!" cried the man. „I... forgive me, Captain, but I can't wait that long. I read about Starfleet, and it sounded like the sort of thing I've always wanted. Then I heard you at the university, and the special emissary. And of course the negotiations are on all the broadcasts, they even had a feature about Federation starships. I wish to join Starfleet. I wish" – and now his voice took on an almost reverential tone – "to serve on a starship. Please, Captain. I promise I won't disappoint your trust."

At this stage Picard sat down on one of the decorative boulders just off the path. „Wait. It's true that I can write a recommendation for you. But I'm not quite sure that you know what you are taking on."

„But I do," Su assured him eagerly. „In a way I've been working towards it. We're tradition-minded on this planet, but we're not total bigots. I started collecting information about the Federation years ago. My father's been helping too."

„I see." The captain found himself warming to the young man. Singlemindedness he understood – he had it on his own ship, in abundance. „What is your subject, by the way?" he asked abruptly.

„History," Su answered readily, sitting as well – cross-legged on the yellowish government lawn. „I have done as much outworld history as I could. I _like_ history. But doing the sort of thing you do – that would be it."

„It's not always as pleasant," warned Picard, quite aware that he was just going through the motions of cautioning someone who was evidently beyond cautioning. „Incidentally, you may have to work on your attitude towards regulations."

„Oh! You see, they _still_ wouldn't let me in," the young man explained, earnestly. „I took another route this time."

Picard immediately filed the fact away with the other things he wasn't going to tell Worf. He had a fairly clear idea of what his security chief would have to say about a government complex that could be broken into, two times running, by a history student.

„Will you do it?" asked Su with a hint of trepidation.

„I don't see why not." The captain got up from his boulder, automatically straightening his uniform tunic. „You'll have to understand – they may look into it very closely. I don't know much about you, and I am not going to pretend otherwise."

„No, Captain. I understand. But then your word may be good enough for them." Nilnram Su scrambled to his feet as well, looking at Picard with eyes that were positively shining with hero worship. „I... I am tremendously grateful, Captain Picard. Thank you very much. I don't think I can ever repay you, but if there is anything I could do, ever –"

„You could make a decent Starfleet officer for a beginning," suggested Picard, quite unable to suppress a feeling of slightly embarrassed amusement. Truth be told, he was actually feeling touched as well. „I'll have the letter left at the gate. And if you need me again," he couldn't help adding, „I am quite sure you'll know where to find me."

„I think I have bothered you enough already," Su replied. „I won't forget your kindness, Captain... _sir_. Safe travels, and, er... thank you again." And with that, and an awkward little bow, he dashed off.

„You're quite welcome," muttered Picard, a little dazed.

**x ****x x **


	16. Chapter 16

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter ****15**

Lieutenant Worf was sitting in his tent, both elbows on the table, chin in hands, and staring at his blank monitor. Staring it down, as it were, willing it to provide him with information. The monitor, needless to say, remained unimpressed.

It was a little after noon, and it was quite hot. Klingons didn't mind heat, although Worf would have preferred the air to be a little more humid. The dryness of the air, however, was a negligible detail in the greater scheme of things.

Lieutenant Worf was unhappy. He was feeling unwanted, ill-used, and frustrated to a degree he wouldn't have thought possible. He hadn't had a full night's sleep since he had beamed down into this godforsaken place; he was tired, and edgy, and irritable, and continually on the point of exploding. He wanted to be in Yalnrag-Myura, or back on the _Enterprise_, or in fact almost anywhere as long as it wasn't here. He wanted a decent workout in one of his holodeck calistenics programs (level three). He wanted a fight. Most of all, he wanted his captain within sight.

Through the hot midday air a sound came wafting into his tent. It had been there for about three hours now, ever since the first members of the small herd of ngahyak further down the valley had lain down to rest. It would go on until the last animal was on its misshapen feet again. A soft drumming as produced by the simultaneous playing of four large tambourines, swelling and ebbing, endlessly varying the two or three rhythmic patterns that apparently were appropriate for the occasion. It kept evil away from the sacred animals they said. The layghiar were masters of their job, there was no denying it. For all that there were moments when Worf's mind was filled with images of himself taking the tambourines from them and smashing them over their heads, one by one. He could almost see the splinters flying. It would be so unspeakably satisfying, so utterly, gloriously –

Not quite as satisfying as squashing that miserable vermin to pulp beneath the heel of his boot, though. He could hear it right now, a soft contented trilling just on the edge of hearing. The thing could actually trill and eat at the same time – and of course it was eating without pause. Just now it was working its way round his tent, leaving small trenches and tunnels in the long bluish grass. Whenever he came too close, either inside or out, the trilling would become a high-pitched screech. If he hadn't had proof, over and over again, of the thing's mindboggling stupidity, he might have suspected it was doing it on purpose.

His rejoicing had been premature, of course. It had been sick all right – for about two hours. Afterwards it had turned its attention back to eating. And Doctor Crusher had provided another box of hyronalin tablets as promised.

It had been a mistake to accept the lughan's promise of one report per day. He had simply given up the option of calling the lughan's office whenever he felt like it. To make matters worse, he didn't trust the lughan even that far. Would the fool actually _tell_ him if his carelessness caused the captain to be hurt? And why weren't Beya and Sanders reporting in? What was it they were trying to hide?

With a sound halfway between a sigh and a snarl he rose, tearing himself away from his morbid reflections. The ngahyak would wake soon, which meant that the team would go off for another afternoon of ngahyak-watching. The layghiar would cease drumming, but it wasn't at all certain they would leave too. Once convinced of the team's bona fides they had developed a habit of turning up at odd times, in groups ranging from two to six, hanging out, staying for lunch or dinner, asking casual questions and occasionally even answering them, and generally (thought Worf) making a pest of themselves. The scientists welcomed them as sources of ngahyak-pertinent information, and as a sign that all was well with the project. Worf avoided them. They reminded him too much of all the things he disliked about his assignment, and the sound of their tambourines was beginning to haunt him in his sleep. When he could sleep, that was.

He'd go collect a few more samples. There was a smallish lake about eight kilometers south-east of the camp. He would try to tire himself sufficiently to be able to sleep tonight. And on returning he _would_ call the capital, make sure everything was all right.

He took his sample kit, slung it over his shoulder, made sure his sash was in place and his hair properly gathered in its customary pigtail (he wasn't going to appear sloppy, no matter what the surroundings), and stepped out of his tent.

Tyr-Aurell was sitting a few meters away in the entrance of _her_ tent, reading a padd. When she saw him she gave him one of her charming smiles, complete with a quick flash of small fangs. „Off again, Lieutenant?"

He nodded, noticing at the same moment that the Yalnragian twenty-nine-hour day was beginning to take its toll on her as well. She was looking tired and a trifle distracted – but her hair was brushed, her gray coveralls were spotless, and the lavender color on her hands and forehead was perfectly placed.

„Another four days," she said. „Probably not more than that. Which means that more than half of your ordeal is over."

Worf pulled himself up. „It is not an ordeal," he stated, with immense dignity. And when he saw an amused gleam lighting her eyes he added: „The honor is to serve, Emissary. Moreover, it is a pleasure to serve with you."

„You are honoring me," she replied with another of those flashing smiles. For a fleeting moment he was almost sure they were playing some sort of game. „I hope you'll find your walk relaxing, Lieutenant."

He responded by a slight inclination of the head, of the kind he reserved for those he respected above the average, but as he wound his way out of the camp he couldn't help wondering if she had noticed that his heart wasn't in this.

It wouldn't have been so bad if she had been in any danger at all he decided. She was a great lady, and a charming woman; protecting her would have been a task worthy of any warrior. But the danger was elsewhere. He knew it was. He always knew.

**x ****x x **

„Captain Picard –"

Picard, just leaving the cabinet's luxurious cafeteria with Secretary Ghanig after a lunch break he could have done without, stopped in his tracks. _What now?_ he thought before he could stop himself. The lughan's slightly officious, slightly disapproving voice was beginning to jar on his nerves.

„Captain, please forgive my intrusion. But I have heard an alarming piece of news. Is it true that an intruder has accosted you?"

„Well, there was an intruder," admitted Picard, noticing that Secretary Ghanig was hovering nearby, evidently intrigued. „But he didn't _accost_ me, exactly."

„You have been in grave danger, Captain. I am very alarmed. Is there anything you could tell me that would help us find him?"

„May I ask how you found out?"

„I have been contacted by the guards at the gate. Someone came for a document which he said you had left for him. They gave him the document, but they also alerted me. If you would tell me what kind of business he thought he had with you, and perhaps a little more about him –"

Picard considered, but only for a couple of seconds. „I'm afraid I can't," he said then. „His business was quite innocuous, and I was never in any danger at all. If I knew how he got in I would tell you, of course, but beyond that you'll understand that I can't pass on information given me in good faith. And really, it's not my job to track down intruders for you."

The lughan gave him a look that was openly resentful. „If that is your attitude, Captain. May I ask where your security was at the time?"

„My security was..." Picard hesitated. „Elsewhere," he finished with a shrug.

„This must not happen again. I'll assign two of my own officers to accomp –"

„_What_?"

The lughan almost took a jump backwards. „Captain, I don't –"

„Listen," said Picard, quite unconsciously adopting the clipped tone reserved for special occasions and a very special frame of mind, „I'd like to settle one thing once and for all. I will not interfere with your work, either by hindering it or by doing it for you. I will not be hindered in _my_ work, and I most certainly will not take on another security team. Is that understood?"

„Perfectly, Captain Picard. Do I have your permission to inform your Lieutenant Worf of your refusal should he ask me again if I have taken every precaution at my disposal?"

„By all means," the captain shot back, realizing, just as he turned on his heel to march off in the opposite direction to the one he had wanted to take, that the last semblance of cordiality between the lughan and his security chief seemed to be gone by now. He thought he could hear an outraged hiss in his back, and the beginning of a fierce whispered exchange. Secretary Ghanig caught up with him a few seconds later.

„I am very sorry, Captain. I think I made it clear that his office should be able to reassure your Chief of Security without him bothering you in this manner. Er... I believe it possible that he takes your Lieutenant Worf's concern to be a sign of, well, doubt in his own zeal."

_Quite right too_, thought Picard with a mental sigh. Aloud he said: „Thank you, Secretary." Then a thought occurred to him. „Tell me," he said abruptly, „if I wanted to leave a document at the gate for someone to pick up, could you see to it that that person isn't arrested then and there?"

Secretary Ghanig gave him a sideways look. „Naturally I could do that." After a pause he added, casually: „Would you wish me to take the appropriate steps?"

„I'd be very obliged to you," said the captain.

**x ****x x **

Worf returned in the gathering dusk, having taken the most arduous route that could be discovered, to find the camp in a state of violent disorder.

The first thing that struck him as unusual was the sound of drumming reverberating from the hills all around. To the best of his knowledge drumming was called for when the ngahyak laid down to rest, which they didn't do in the evenings.

Besides, it sounded as if at least eight tambourines were being plied.

„Hello, Worf!" cried Susana Melendez the moment he appeared in the open space between the tents. She was sitting on a stool, her back against an equipment container, her pad on her knees, paintbox and a jar of water within reach. „You missed a sight. In fact you missed a sight you might have liked."

Worf looked round at the scattered equipment, the table-sized padd used for tracking ngahyak movements left leaning against a boulder, the upturned chairs. „Where is everybody?" he asked sharply.

„Gone after the animals. It's my turn to stay here in case there's a call for you." She gave him a surprisingly conspiratorial smile. „There was a stampede," she added, by way of explanation.

„A stampede?" echoed Worf.

„A large herd – something like a hundred and thirty ngahyak. They were up there" – she pointed with her brush – „and something startled them. Just as well it wasn't one of us – that would have been the end of this mission. They came rushing downhill, just missed the camp. I shouldn't have thought they could run like that. They would have trampled us and everything else if we had been in their way. They are a couple of kilometers down the valley now, and the layghiar have called in reinforcements to calm them."

Worf frowned. There were several points that needed clarifying, but right now something else was taking up his attention. Something that was _missing_. His senses were straining for something, some element that should have been there and wasn't. Abruptly, he asked: „Where is the emissary's pet?"

„Oh!" Melendez' face fell rather abruptly. „I don't suppose you'll be sorry to hear it, Worf, but it had wandered away – we last saw it somewhere over there. Right in the path of the ngahyak, poor little thing. The emissary went to look for it before setting out. She couldn't find it."

Worf swallowed, suddenly very relieved that Tyr-Aurell wasn't present. He didn't like having to lie. He was miserably bad at it too. „I _am_ sorry, for her," he finally said, which was the truth.

Melendez gave him a small smile. „Me, too," she said, sadly, and he turned and made for his tent. There were samples to stow away, lots of them.

It came as no surprise to Worf that the wretched creature had evidently decided to leave the vicinity of his tent the moment he was gone from it. _Serve it right_, he thought, savagely. _It must surely be dead now_. There was a kind of poetic justice to it – at least the repulsive brutes had had their one moment of usefulness.

There was something else, though – an uncomfortable thought nagging at him. The emissary had been in danger. All of them had been, with the sole exception of himself. He had been away collecting samples. Not enjoying himself, exactly, but as close to enjoying himself as he could get under the circumstances.

It was unthinkable. Never mind the fact that she didn't want him to accompany her on field trips – the danger had been right here, at the camp. Never mind that there was nothing in the world he could have done to protect her from a ngahyak stampede. His place was at her side. There was no doubt about it – he had been negligent in his duties. He, Lieutenant Worf of the _Enterprise_.

He stood in the middle of his tent with his back to the entrance, arms crossed, the sample kit forgotten, scowling. It should _not_ have happened. It insulted his honor. It made him untrustworthy in his own eyes – what if the captain heard of this? What if Tyr-Aurell had been injured while under his protection? And how could he expect his subordinates to take their duties seriously if he himself acted so carelessly?

The thought gave him a jolt. He'd forgotten all about Beya and Sanders for the moment. And evidently there had been no call so far. Where was the report the lughan had promised? Why hadn't it been delivered? Had something happened?

Worf was halfway to his monitor when he checked himself. He wouldn't call the capital. Not today. He had no business. He had just been proven negligent in the job his captain had given him.

With a sinking heart, and a feeling of impending doom, he turned away – and suddenly the sound of voices from outside came to his notice. It wasn't the scientific team. There was just one voice, distinctly Yalnragian, talking to Melendez. And Melendez' interjections were sounding positively delighted. Worf quickly left the tent.

He recognized a layghiar, billowing breeches, tambourine and all, standing with his back to him. Melendez smiled the moment she saw him emerge, and the man turned quickly. And Worf froze in his tracks.

„You will be pleased to have your little mascot returned to you," the layghiar said politely. „We found it wandering about by itself. It is very small. It may have lost its way. We hope the emissary didn't worry too much." And he stroked the quietly purring tribble he was carrying in the crook of his arm.

Worf could feel his jaw moving a little, but his voice seemed to have business elsewhere. Melendez, mercifully, came forward to take over for him.

„I've just told Mr. Lasna how delighted we are to have it back. Thank you so very much – we were afraid it might have been trampled accidentally."

The layghiar twitched his shoulders a little for no. „That would not have happened," he said confidently. „It is a _haylm_ – a guardian animal. We noticed it straight away. They would have recognized a _haylm_, even one from outside our world. Guardian animals are charmed." He executed one of the abbreviated little Yalnragian bows. „I must get back to my duties.

"We hope you'll join us for lunch again tomorrow," said Melendez, carefully taking the tribble from him.

Worf could only nod dumbly.

**x ****x x **


	17. Chapter 17

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 16**

„You're actually _recommending_ him, sir?" asked Lieutenant Beya.

„Why not? He is intelligent, determined, persistent, resourceful – qualities you of all people ought to appreciate, Lieutenant. Who knows, he may end up in someone's security, and God have mercy on that someone." Picard suppressed a yawn, and just stopped himself from tugging at the collar of his dress uniform. The last item on today's schedule had been yet another gala dinner; this time Chancellor Nyk had introduced him to Yalnrag's foremost scientific luminaries, and the captain wanted nothing so much as to be rid of the uniform, a hot shower, and a night's sleep. „So", he managed around another yawn, „if you'll just do me the kindness to drop this padd at the gate, I'll wish you both a good night."

„Er... yes, of course, sir", said Beya. „Good night."

Picard entered his suite with an involuntary sigh of relief. There was actually a hint of a breeze in the living room, coming from the large window – which he had been careful to leave open during the day, of course, ever since he had found out how to open the infernal thing. He crossed the room to his bedroom, brought up the lights to an agreeable half-dimness, took off his uniform with a feeling of profound gratitude, and changed into a robe. He had just belted this when he thought he heard a very soft little creaking sound from the direction of the living room – a sound that somehow didn't seem to go with the breeze and the rustling from the garden.

The first, slightly absurd thought that came to mind, for a fleeting moment, was _It'll be_ _Su again_ – probably wanting a lift to the nearest starbase.

He dismissed that idea almost the moment it presented itself, and decided that if there _was_ an intruder his motives were unlikely to be friendly. By then he had crossed the room on bare feet, and was standing by the door, listening.

Nothing. If there was someone in the other room he was probably listening too. Switching off the lights would alert him, and momentarily blind Picard; the captain decided against it. Instead he quickly stepped into the open door.

There was an individual on the windowsill, just visible against the darkness of the garden outside.

Of course the man saw him against the lighted bedroom door the moment he was seen himself, but then the captain was slightly better prepared, and turned out to be marginally quicker. He reached the window just as the intruder was preparing to jump but before he could get off the sill, and simply gave the part extending into the room a shove. The window closed, neatly taking the individual with it; Picard could just see him vanishing from view outside.

_I can't believe I did that_, he found himself thinking as he pulled the window open again to listen, careful not to lean out. He could hear the intruder thrashing about in the decorative shrubbery five meters below the window, groaning. Whoever he was, this was clearly a matter for Planetary Security. The captain turned away from the window –

– and only just avoided the blade whistling down on him from behind, more from instinct than anything else. The man shouted something and immediately went into another lunge, dagger held high; Picard just caught the light from the bedroom glinting off a second blade. He didn't have a weapon, and he had no time at all to think about a strategy. He managed to get out of the way, barely, grabbing the attacker's left arm as the man hurtled past him, and when the man stumbled, whirled, and raised his other hand he tried to dispose of the second knife by a well-aimed kick at the intruder's right arm.

It might have worked if he had been wearing uniform boots; as it was, he felt the blade grazing his bare foot, and the attacker still held on to his weapon. It did upset his balance somewhat, though, and when he tried to free himself the captain used the remaining momentum to pull him down with himself in a tangle of arms and legs. He still had the other man's left arm, and they ended up in a heap right by a small table – a table which held a piece of abstract art on a solid base of bluish stone.

Picard knew the statuette was there, of course – the sight of it had been distressing him for the past four or five days. He had found himself wondering, repeatedly, whether or not it was supposed to represent a ngahyak. Right now it occurred to him that the thing might make as good a weapon as he was likely to find – If he could avoid the attacker's twin knives for long enough. He let go of the man's arm, rolled, and got to his knees, reaching for the thing on the table.

The intruder was on his feet again in a flash, and went for him with a hoarse cry; Picard just managed to get the small table between himself and the attacker, and used the extra second to try and get to his feet himself. He kicked the table towards the other man, heard him stumble, and raised the sculpture – but even as the attacker regained his balance he managed to lash out with one of his knives. The captain couldn't quite avoid it, not without sacrificing his one chance of a well-aimed hit; he stood his ground, turning his head and feeling the point rip across his forehead, and brought the sculpture down blindly at the same time.

He had hit him all right he realized a moment later; there was a definite impact, not to mention a sickening thud, but he couldn't see a thing – not while squeezing his eyes shut against the blood pouring from the gash across his forehead. He did hear the sound of someone collapsing on the floor, and decided then and there that he needed someone from Planetary Security now. He was in no condition to take on an assassin who might be regaining consciousness any moment. Depositing the sculpture on the desk, and using the sleeve of his robe to keep the blood from running into his eyes, he made for the door.

As luck would have it, a guard came strolling down the hall mere seconds after he had opened the door. The man stopped in his tracks on seeing him, and stared.

„Excuse me", the captain said, „I just had to deal with an intruder in my quarters. Would you mind taking care of him?"

The guard looked at him disbelievingly. It was several seconds before he asked: „An intruder, Captain Picard?"

„Yes. An intruder armed with two knives. I'd appreciate it if you could get him out of my quarters."

The guard whipped out one of the local communicators, and barked into it: „Security team to Captain Picard's quarters!" Then he pushed past the captain into the living room, disruptor drawn, switching on the light as he entered.

The intruder was still on the floor, gripping one of his knives. He was wearing a loose-fitting, pale yellow tunic, and a matching headband. The guard turned back towards the captain with an expression of incredulity.

„Captain, this is the man you had to deal with?"

Picard nodded, cautiously lowering his arm by way of experiment. The bleeding hadn't stopped, but it appeared to be lessening. „In fact there were two of them. The second... well, he fell off the windowsill. You may want to send a team down into the garden."

„This is a member of the _s'nglanyl_", the guard said flatly.

„The what?"

„The assassins' sect."

„I see. Do you think you could get rid of him? I'd like to get some sleep."

„You are injured", said the guard, sounding concerned.

„Not really. Could we get on with this?"

„Please", said the guard, „sit down. You'll need a doctor." He drew his communicator device again, keeping his disruptor trained on the unconscious intruder. „We have a s'nglanyl here. He's been neutralized. There may be another one about in the grounds. And please send a doctor – Captain Picard is hurt."

„I would appreciate it," said Picard, sitting down in a chair and viewing the cut across the heel of his left foot, "if you could try to dispense with unnecessary drama when making your report later on." In fact, he realized a moment later, the cut appeared to be quite shallow.

"But you have been in grave danger, Captain", said the guard, still looking shaken as he stood bending over the would-be assassin.

„Do they always have two knives?" inquired Picard.

„One for each heart. It is the tradition. Did he shout something on attacking?"

At that point a Yalnragian security team burst in and immediately fanned out to search the rooms, followed a few seconds later by a distracted-looking Beya who immediately went to his knees by Picard's side. „Captain, are you all right?"

„I am quite well, Lieutenant. And frankly, I didn't want you in here as well."

„I'm sorry, Captain", said Beya, unconvincingly. „The lughan's office alerted us. The lughan himself will be here in a moment. They're sending the duty doctor. And they're searching the grounds."

"There wasn't by any chance a way of keeping the lughan out of this?"

"I have a feeling he knew before we did," answered Beya out of the corner of his mouth, adding, rather more convincingly this time: "Sorry for that, sir."

"Oh well, it could be worse I suppose," said Picard as yet more security appeared in the door. "We could have Worf here as well."

He thought, with a certain degree of satisfaction, that he could see Beya shuddering at that.

**- - - - - - - -**

There had been no report. And Worf couldn't bring himself to call the capital. He knew it wouldn't be appreciated, but worse than that, he didn't feel he had the right. So he waited for Tyr-Aurell's team to return, and then he tried to sleep.

Whatever had frightened the bluish brutes, they had recovered rather quickly. By the time he laid down they had resumed their courting and fighting, going _ngaaah-yak-yak-yak_ at a distance that just allowed him to pick up the nuances. The large yellow moon cast an eerie light through the fabric of his tent; he could see the shadows of the poles wandering across the synthetic walls. He couldn't sleep.

Beya and Sanders should have called _him_. So should the lughan. It might be nothing. They might have forgotten – but what did that tell him about their attitude? He felt like shouting at somebody.

Subtle changes in the light told him that the smaller coral-colored moon had risen as well. The ngahyak sounded as if they were having the time of their life. Lieutenant Worf turned onto his side with a snarl of frustration, and tried to think of something else. Perhaps the data collected during this mission could be used for the creation of a new holodeck training program.

A shrill beeping from his monitor startled him to his feet an hour or two later. He activated the thing without a conscious thought, without even being fully awake, aware only of a cold panic. The solemn face of a man in the uniform of Planetary Security filled the screen.

„Yes?" snapped Worf.

„Lieutenant", the man began rather formally. „I apologize for rousing you at this hour, but the matter could brook no delay. I regret to inform you that there has been an incident."

Klingons did not have heart attacks. Lieutenant Worf knew this. Therefore he merely gripped the edge of his table for support, managing: „What kind of incident?"

„I am not authorized as yet to make any details known. You will understand – we are dealing with the s'nglanyl sect here. We will keep you posted on the results of our investigations. Yalnrag-Myura out."

For a number of seconds Worf just stood there, staring blankly at the blank screen. Then, slowly, he felt rage rising within. Rage at everything and everybody around, every circumstance that kept him from where he should have been, at Beya and Sanders, the lughan and his subordinates, the chancellor and his cabinet, and finally, himself. Whatever had happened, exactly, he hadn't been there. And he didn't have an excuse – he hadn't even been there to protect Tyr-Aurell.

He would deal with his own part in this later. Right now he would deal with the others. How dared they tell him such a thing, and then hang up on him like that? He would not allow them to get away with it. He would make them take responsibility.

With a kind of deadened determination he keyed in the Chief of Planetary Security's code. Then he waited.

After about two minutes the screen lit up with the anxious face of a junior official. Worf didn't wait for him to deliver whatever phrases he might have come up with to fob him off. Instead, he hissed. „Who are you? Get me the Chief of Planetary Security – now!"

The clerk tilted his head. „Sir, I... I do regret, but I can't. He is busy. He is conducting an investigation into –"

„What?" snarled Worf. "What is this _incident_? What happened?"

"Sir, I beg your pardon, I know very little about it. It… it seems your captain captured two assassins."

Worf froze. "My… what do you mean, _captured_ two assassins?"

"I… I'm sorry, sir, I'm afraid that's all I know. I'll… that's to say, I'll find somebody for you to speak to."

The official's face vanished, to be replaced by a pleasant swirling pattern in shades of mauve. Worf waited, fuming and at the same time thrown somewhat off track. He was still trying to recapture the singlemindedness of a few minutes ago when the pattern disappeared in its turn, making way for the face of a security officer in a tan uniform. The man looked harrassed. In the background, more figures in tan could be seen moving to and fro in what looked like a hallway.

„Lieutenant Worf," said the officer. „Er... what can I do for you? We are quite busy here at the moment, you understand. Would you like to speak –"

"I wish to speak to the Chief of Planetary Security," ground Worf. "However, you will tell me what it is that makes you _quite busy_ first."

"We… well, we're securing evidence, sir. Cleaning up. Looking for accomplices. Actually, your captain told us to get on with it, sir. After he'd knocked out those two assassins –"

"He _what_?!"

The man nodded vigorously. "I'll just… maybe I should get you somebody else, sir. One moment, please." And the pretty swirling pattern was back, having changed to shades of rosy silver by now. Worf stared at it numbly, trying to concentrate on the task at hand, which was getting rather difficult to remember.

The pattern was abruptly replaced by yet another face – that of Ensign Sanders, who was looking nervous. "Er, hello, sir," he said with a painful attempt at cheerfulness on seeing him. Worf glared back.

"You," he said. "Report."

It wasn't what he had been intending to say. But it had occurred to him that among the multitude of obvious fools entrusted with the task of ensuring the captain's safety his chances of obtaining any reliable information at all might be better with Ensign Sanders than they were with the lughan. Ensign Sanders swallowed visibly.

"Well, we were going to, of course, sir. Very soon. As soon as we'd, er, established all the relevant facts. For example –"

"What happened?" snarled Worf. Part of him – a part he still didn't quite allow himself to listen to – was quite sure by now that whatever exactly it was that had happened, his captain was alive and well. And naturally, he was quite used to an amount of nervousness from those required to report to him at a moment's notice in the middle of the night. It might have been a combination of that and sheer relief that he didn't follow up a fleeting suspicion that Sanders was doing some very quick thinking at the other end.

"Er, yes, sir. Well, you've probably heard – there was an assassin. As a matter of fact there were two. The captain neutralized them both," said Ensign Sanders, blandly.

"He… neutralized them." Worf tried to visualize this, and failed. "How?"

"Knocked them out, sir," said Sanders in a tone that bordered on airiness. "With a piece of art, I believe. And –"

"And where were you?", asked Worf, dangerously.

"Just down the corridor, sir," Sanders assured him hastily. "He'd dismissed us. He was going to retire he said. He… well, sir, it _was_ after midnight."

"I see." A number of things were missing here, Lieutenant Worf was fully aware of that. But by now the wave of relief was all but overwhelming. He wasn't going to let Sanders see it, though. "I will demand a full report in the morning," he said, threateningly. "And if either of you should have been negligent in your duties –"

"Yes, sir. I understand, sir. I trust we will give you no cause for complaint, sir," said Ensign Sanders, looking as if he couldn't believe his luck.

"You will patch me through to the captain now," said Worf, and all of a sudden Ensign Sanders seemed to falter a bit.

"The… captain, sir?"

Worf bristled. "The captain," he reiterated. "_Now_."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Er… Sanders out." And the screen lit up with the pleasant swirling pattern in shades of tawny pink.

Worf waited. It seemed to him that he was waiting for quite some time considering that Sanders was only patching him through to the captain's terminal. At length the pattern disappeared, making way for a dimly-lit room and someone who appeared to be trying to keep out of sight as much as possible.

"Yes, Lieutenant," said Picard, his voice an even blend of resignation, amusement and faint irritation.

"Captain," began Worf rather formally. "I have been informed that there has been an incident. Is this true?"

"Well, if you are referring to those two members of an obscure sect who tried to assassinate me for reasons I may learn in time, yes, it is," said Picard in a tone that struck Worf as inappropriately blithe. "But I… well, I managed to… thwart them, so to speak. There is really no cause for worry."

"You should not have to defend yourself, Captain," said Worf rather forbiddingly. "It is –" He broke off. The lighting was very dim indeed. But Lieutenant Worf had a Klingon's eyesight, which adapted quickly, and he could see the red welt running across the captain's forehead quite well now. "You are injured," he said, alarmed and suspicious and much less formally than before.

Picard sighed. „It's a _scratch_, Lieutenant. Nothing more. It'll heal in a day or two."

Worf scowled, adjusting to a new target. „The security must have been careless after all. I thought so. I am going to –"

„Your security behaved in an exemplary way," interrupted Picard. "Those two men came in by the _window_, for Heaven's sake."

„By the –" For a moment Worf found himself at a loss for words. „Planetary Security did not even secure the windows? I will tell the lughan –"

„Lieutenant", Picard interrupted again, rather hastily, „Planetary Security has nothing to do with it. _I_ opened that window."

Worf opened his mouth and shut it again, not answering for a full five seconds. He was aware of a brief and fleeting, wholly irrational urge to resign his commission then and there. It was too much. He had spent years – _years_ – trying to impress those entrusted to him with the supreme importance of being careful, and now his captain was telling him that he had _opened the window_. Courting disaster, the moment his back was turned.

"Captain," he said at length, just managing to keep the frustrated snarl out of his voice, "I informed you that I believed the local security to be ineffectual. You –" He broke off, drew a deep breath, and swallowed everything else he had been on the point of saying. Instead he announced: "I will speak with the lughan tomorrow."

"I have no doubt that you will do whatever you believe to be necessary." A beat, then Picard added, rather more gently: "I appreciate it, Lieutenant, and I will be as careful as the situation requires. But as it happens, nobody has killed me so far, and I have every intention of making sure it remains that way. And now, please, let me get some rest."

„Yes, Captain," said Worf, sounding – and feeling – less than happy. In fact the image of the captain had barely disappeared from the screen when he keyed in the code for Lieutenant Beya.

**- - - - - - - -**


	18. Chapter 18

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 17**

„_What_?" said Picard, for once completely out of his depth.

The Venerable Sgyun, a man so short he actually looked up at the captain, and broad enough to have been brushing both sides of the doorway on entering, beamed at him. „I don't wonder at your surprise. It is something we have never done before. And we wouldn't if we couldn't be absolutely certain that they will be in good hands."

„I took the liberty," interposed Chancellor Nyk, coming forward, „to inform the Venerable Sgyun of your work for the admirable Animal Sanctity Association. I don't think it was what decided him, Captain, but –"

„No, it wasn't." Sgyun took a quick turn about the room. Considering the weight he must be carrying he was surprisingly nimble on his feet, and surprisingly disinclined to stand still. He had been introduced to Picard as the head of what appeared to be the Yalnragian equivalent of a state church. His bearing, his temperament and his businesslike blue tunic and trousers reminded Picard more of a certain type of ambassador than of a cleric. „Your work here was what decided me. Yours and the wonderful Emissary's. We regard it a a gesture of mutual trust. And should anything ever happen to the ngahyak on this planet – a horrible thought, but the ways of the Powers are different from ours, and sentient beings can be so very stupid – at least there will be some left elsewhere, protected by the full power of the Federation. Well, Captain, what do you say?"

„Sir, I –" Picard hesitated for a moment, and then took refuge in that most failsafe of Klingon phrases, „it will be an honor. I will do everything in my power to arrange for this transfer. But do you really believe _my_ ship would be –?"

„Absolutely," the chancellor interrupted with conviction. „Your ship would be perfect. The flagship of the Federation to take a group of ngahyak to their new home. It will please people, Captain, and believe me, some people are hard to please. We shouldn't waste the impression you have made on the Council. _Or_ the impression the Emissary has made on the layghiar."

„I agree wholeheartedly," Sgyun chimed in again. „There have been messages of approval from a number of sects – even the mulgnrian, the scholars' sect, I believe they were mentioned to you. They _all_ like your contribution. I really think it would be foolish to put this off."

„Well, I certainly wouldn't –"

„We'll make sure the ngahyak are accompanied by qualified personnel, of course," said Sgyun. „Keepers, an expert on their health and well-being and a few people to look after their spiritual welfare. You shouldn't have any trouble with the animals."

„It would forge a strong bond between our world and the Federation," the chancellor added, looking quite elated. „The one major source of discontent, and you helped to overcome it. Captain, no ship but yours should even be considered."

„If you really wish to entrust them to us," said Picard, accepting the inevitable with the grace the occasion required. _Starfleet expects every man to do his duty_. „We will be happy to do everything in our power to make them comfortable."

„We know you will," the two dignitaries replied almost as one. The captain had a strong feeling that this harmony was the exception rather than the rule in their relationship.

„And... how many do you think –?"

„Sixteen," the Venerable Sgyun replied promptly. „Four males, twelve females. Sixteen happens to be a sacred number. It will please the glyunlag."

„The glyunlag?" echoed Picard. He didn't think he had heard of that one.

„People seeking guidance by looking for hidden meaning in the writings of the ancient sages," Nyk explained readily. „Quite a large sect, and fairly secular these days."

„I'll go speak with my first officer. There will be preparations to be made. And the information we'll need to care for them –"

„Please, Captain, don't worry about that. We'll do the organising. You are most gracious." The Venerable Sgyun was almost jumping up and down with delight. „We'll need a liaison, that's all."

„I'll let you know straight away," promised Picard, halfway to the door.

„You remember there is the state dinner tonight – you _will_ do us the honor of joining my colleagues and myself for it, won't you?" asked the chancellor.

„I am looking forward to it," said the captain, and made his escape.

Beya and Sanders came strolling into view when he crossed the hall, both of them carrying bags and small parcels and looking elaborately unconcerned. He nodded to them, and Beya actually managed a little start of faked surprise on being summoned before hurrying up. „Do you want us, Captain?"

_Not exactly_. „I see you have been seeing the sights."

„Yes, sir. Er... we've been to the artists' quarter in the Old City today. Nice place, sir."

„I'll take your word for it," said Picard with a slight smile. „Just this – unless something else turns up we'll be leaving the day after tomorrow. If I were you I'd keep those parcels out of sight on returning."

Sanders nodded vigorously. „We will, Captain. Er... thank you, sir. And… there's the cabinet dinner today. It'll be on all the broadcasts."

Picard's eyebrows rose. „Yes, that much I know. Your point, Mr. Sanders?"

„Just that – just in case you don't want us at the actual dinner – well, perhaps we should still be present while all the attendees go in and the news crews are present... sir." Sanders was looking slightly nervous. The captain filled in the implications by himself.

„You think Lieutenant Worf will be watching the broadcasts."

„Um... yes, sir," said Beya. "In fact we're pretty sure he will. Er… he more or less told us so."

"I hope you didn't get into trouble, gentlemen," said Picard. "After all, you only followed a direct order."

"Yes, sir – that's to say, no, sir, we didn't," said Beya. "And Captain… thank you very much for, er, for making the matter clear."

"My pleasure, Lieutenant. As regards your presence – such as it will be – at that dinner," the captain continued, "you'd better speak with Secretary Ghanig. He should be in his office right now – although he was going to give me that tour of the Old City this afternoon, so if you want to see him, I recommend doing it now. And no, you won't accompany me. Just for the record, I have also declined the additional security team of six the lughan tried to saddle me with." Almost in the act of turning away he added: „And no, I won't mention it to Worf if you don't."

„But Captain –!" Beya tried to protest, but he was quite aware that his position wasn't particularly strong, and Picard was already halfway down the hall.

Will Riker was trying valiantly not to grin when Picard contacted him over the monitor in his suite, asking him to arrange things with the FeCoPES and the management of the Federation zoo planet, Brentalia. „And please make them understand, Will," Picard said, a little wearily, „this isn't an offer. It's a request. We can't refuse to take these animals."

„I'll see to it," promised Riker. „To be honest, Captain, I'm looking forward to seeing them in the flesh. I've been told so much about them –"

„I take it you have been talking to Worf. Will, was it really necessary to tell Minister Thulgig about my so-called membership in the A.S.A.?"

Will Riker's eyes grew round with bewildered innocence while his grin spread even wider. „But sir, I thought it might help matters along. After all, you only kept that membership because you thought so too. And Minister Thulgig was _so_ delighted. Actually, if you want to know, she said that it was such a relief, after dealing with _fanatics of every ilk_ – her words, not mine – to discover there are _intelligent, cultivated_ people – her words again – taking an int-"

„No, Will, quite frankly, I don't want to know."

The first officer tilted his head, quite unimpressed. „Charming woman, actually. She also said we'd be needing a liaison to organize things. Er... I've been giving it some thought, and by now of course Worf would be the one with most experience in dealing with those animals and their guardians. But," said Riker virtuously, "on second thoughts maybe Data would be our best candidate."

"Very thoughtful, Number One," said Picard. "I tend to agree. I suspect Worf would, too. And by the way, I have absolutely no doubt that there'll be complications."

„Actually, I could do with a complication or two. It's been so very _quiet_ here." The grin was slowly creeping back. „I'll put Data on to it, then. Er... do you want me to pass on the glad tidings to the science team, or are you going to do it yourself?"

„Under the circumstances I think I'll do it myself, Number One." And with a touch of uncharitable satisfaction he added: „No doubt I'll see you at the farewell reception and buffet tomorrow."

Riker nodded eagerly. „I've been invited. It sounds great. Just – if you don't mind my saying so, sir, perhaps you _should_ see Doctor Crusher before then. She'll be able to make that cut a lot less visible. Just a thought, sir – seeing that Worf will be there too."

**- - - - - - - -**

„_What_?" said Worf, not trying to hide his incredulous disgust. In fact he was hoping for a moment that this might be a particularly poor joke at his expense.

„I am afraid so," Tyr-Aurell replied. „We are to return to Yalnrag-Myura tomorrow afternoon. There'll be a buffet. Reports and recommendations to be made to the government's specialist team the morning after. By then preparations aboard should be complete. Suitable animals are even now being selected by my colleagues."

„Sixteen ngahyak," muttered Worf, shaking his head. Tyr-Aurell was sitting on a folding chair in the shade of her tent, a large padd on her knees. Worf, naturally, had remained on his feet.

„We'll go on another excursion tonight," Tyr-Aurell continued, thoughtfully. „And tomorrow Ito, Melendez and myself will have to compile a report – Lieutenant, would you mind overseeing the breaking of this camp while we do?"

„No, Emissary. I will contact the _Enterprise_ immediately. I will not allow these people to have free access to the _Enterprise's_ sensitive areas."

Tyr-Aurell looked up at that, and smiled. „Mr. Worf, from what we've seen here they probably won't be interested in your ship's secrets. They'll be perfectly happy looking after those animals."

„They may belong to a sect other than the layghiar. I do not trust their sects," pronounced Worf, and Tyr-Aurell knew better than to argue that one. She watched him stalking off with a good deal of amusement, and more than a little affection.

Worf entered his tent, glared at the tribble which was munching something in the far corner, and went over to his monitor. He had found lately that his attitude to the creature had changed… marginally. It wasn't that he liked it, or tolerated it willingly. He still thought it useless, annoying and vaguely distasteful; he still wondered why anybody, let alone a charming, intelligent, honorable lady like Tyr-Aurell, would want to waste time and attention on a greedy, stupid little vermin like that; he still winced at the sounds it made. But the fact that the tribble had survived the ngahyak stampede had made him reconsider. It was tougher than he had at first assumed. It might be luck or mere stupidity, and naturally he had dismissed the layghiar's theory that the pathetic thing served as a kind of friendly genie with contempt, but the tribble had proven itself to be a survivor – of sorts.

He'd still shoo it outside as soon as he had finished, with the aid of his sample kit or whatever came handy; he wasn't going to let it take over his tent.

„Sure," said Will Riker, nodding solemnly on Worf's monitor. „Don't worry about that. The captain told us about it. Geordi's already busy clearing out two cargobays."

„Then the Federation will accept the beasts?" asked Worf, hope dying hard.

„I haven't received an answer so far, but we don't have much of a choice. The only real problem will be creating a habitat for them on Brentalia at very short notice, but that's not something the chancellor wants to hear. Seems his cabinet is milking this for all it's worth. Oh, and Murray of Environmental says those samples you collected will be incredibly useful to the people on Brentalia. In fact he wants to take a few pieces of turf, something like ten square meters all in all, taken from as many different locations as possible. To help them come up with grassland suitable for ngahyak. With the experience you must have by now… d'you think you could oblige him?"

Worf straightened his shoulders but refused to be provoked. „I will ask Crewman Vassili to see to it. Commander, I would appreciate it if the Yalnragians were to be assigned quarters close to a security station. I have been told there will be about a dozen of them, and they may not be layghiar. I will not take any risks."

„Well, from the information we received an hour ago they'll belong to several different sects. Including layghiar." Riker appeared to be consulting a padd on his desk, and his eyebrows rose. „It mentions tambourines here. Does that mean I'll get to hear some of that drumming you've been mentioning, Worf?"

„Thank you, Commander, I will leave it to you. Worf out," said Worf.

**- - - - - - - -**


	19. Chapter 19

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 18**

„This," said Beverly Crusher, „is ridiculous."

„You're telling me, Doc." Geordi La Forge gave one of his characteristic shrugs. „But that priest, name of Asghiul, says replicated food is an abomination. He says that, quote, the Federation flagship is well known to be equipped with all the necessary technology. Unquote."

„I'm not having my stasis chambers filled with poisonous blue grass, period. I don't care how picky those animals are or what their keepers say. Stasis chambers are for emergencies. And for people. _Can_ you replicate their food?"

„'Course we can. The animals won't complain. I'd say they'd be a whole lot happier without that sanctity business. We could have them beamed straight into the cargobays, for one." And when he saw Crusher's eyebrows rising he added: „We're not allowed to do that either. It's an abomination. That's why half my staff will be busy fetching them by shuttlecraft." Geordi slumped into a chair in Crusher's office. „And afterwards we'll just repair those shuttles. I've seen the animals. They're big. Aggressive, too."

„It wouldn't be a problem to give them a mild sedative," Crusher said thoughtfully. Geordi opened his mouth to answer, but she anticipated him. „Right, okay, let me guess. We can't. It's an abomination."

„See what I mean?" Having once started to pour out his troubles Geordi gratefully went on. „The best thing is that every time I make a suggestion that priest tells me the captain wouldn't approve of it. Somehow he got it into his head the captain's a champion of all things ngahyak. I don't know whose bright idea it was to tell them he's a member of the Animal Sanctity Association, but I wish they'd –"

„Wait a moment." Crusher leaned forward, eyes suddenly wide. „He's a _what_?"

„_I_ don't know who brought it up. Can't imagine it's true. But that priest keeps telling me –"

„Of the_ Animal Sanctity Association_?"

Geordi saw the gleam in her eye and hesitated. „Well, I think it's pretty unlikely."

„I'll ask him," the doctor decided with a smile. „You were saying?"

„Don't know. What _was_ I saying?" Geordi sighed. „Yeah, right. Mating season's still in full swing, meaning they'll go for each other no matter what we do. And I wish Worf would get off my back. He doesn't want the Yalnragians near any sensitive areas, but you know what he is – when he gets into that kind of mode _anything_'s a sensitive area." He heaved himself out of his chair with a soft groan. „Right. I'll go back to soundproofing the cargobays." And on that ominous note he departed. Crusher looked after him thoughtfully.

„Animal Sanctity Association," she muttered, to no one in particular. „Now who'd have thought it."

**- - - - - - - -**

At about the same time Captain Picard was conducting a discussion with Chancellor Nyk and the Venerable Sgyun – a discussion that was beginning to turn just a little acrid.

„I thought you understood," said Sgyun. „It is a matter of principle."

„I do understand. And I agree – it is." Picard would have preferred to get up from his infernally uncomfortable chair, but they might have interpreted that as a gesture of finality, so he stayed where he was.

„The Unity will say that he is just a machine while they are living beings, and sacred to us. You are asking too much."

„He is my second officer, and my operations manager. Incidentally, he has coordinated and processed all the data Emissary Tyr-Aurell collected. What would you have me do – relieve him of duty while those animals are aboard?"

„No, no, of course not!" the chancellor interposed quickly. „Perhaps we could agree on a compromise. If you would just promise that he won't be in direct contact with the ngahyak – just so the Unity could be certain there won't be any, er, harmful influence..."

„I can't. I cannot make any such promises. In a crisis we might have to –"

„Captain, you are impossible!" groaned the Venerable Sgyun. „You won't promise to put them first in a crisis, you won't promise they won't be disturbed, and now... The Unity will tear me apart!"

„Sir, the Unity will have realized by now that putting sixteen large animals aboard a starship, and transporting them to a planet a few dozen light years away, constitues a disturbance no matter how we do it." He had allowed for an amount of political bias at first; but by now the captain was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the Unity – the governing body of sect representatives presided over by the Venerable Sgyun – was as pedantic and unreasonable as the chancellor had described them.

„Are you telling me, on your authority as a member of the Animal Sanctity Association, that they can't be transported without being disturbed, and they can't be transported without the involvement of your second officer?"

Picard winced, hesitated, wondered for a moment if this was going to be the end of the Federation's good relations with Yalnrag, and finally said: „Yes, sir, I am." _On whatever authority_, he added to himself.

The Venerable Sgyun sighed deeply. „But you _can_ promise you won't beam them."

„I can promise that. We can take them by shuttlecraft."

„Very well." Another sigh. „I'll put it to them as a concession. Your word has weight with the Unity, Captain. There is another problem. The ngahyak must have an escort. Several sects practise ngahyak worship as a central element of their creed. There have been disagreements on the number, and the sect affiliation, of those who will accompany them. The layghiar must have priority, of course, as they are actively serving the ngahyak. Would you object to taking eight layghiar, Captain?"

Picard smiled at that. At least this was one answer that wouldn't disappoint Sgyun. „Of course not. My ship is capable of transporting several thousand people. Choose whatever escort you think appropriate."

The two dignitaries exchanged a happy look. Obviously this had been a matter of some concern. „Then I'll take the liberty to include a government representative," announced the chancellor. „To oversee the diplomatic side of things on Brentalia. Gysial Uns, the director or the National Center of Ngahyak Studies – you have met him, Captain."

Picard's memory of the man in question was vague, but he nodded. The Venerable Sgyun chimed in again.

„The keepers will have to belong to a variety of sects. We shouldn't risk offending anybody. The Unity has, er, agreed on two members of the sylgna, two members of the nas, and one each of the ghandu, yulghiar, ilnaln and myal-lun. There is a slight detail," he added, somewhat hurriedly. „The yulghiar and the nas don't approve of each other. Personally I would have preferred to include two members of each, but the nas are the larger sect by far, and they would have called it misrepresentation and favoritism. Er... Captain, could you keep an eye on them?"

Picard found himself frowning slightly. „If I may ask, what exactly does this... disapproval... entail?"

The Venerable Sgyun looked slightly pained. „Normally they just avoid each other. It is only when their beliefs clash that they become unreasonable. They are not _militant_ sects," he added quickly. „You must believe me – we allow no militant splinter groups in the Unity. In fact the Unity was deeply shocked on hearing of the assassination attempt by the s'nglanyl."

„I know," replied Picard soothingly. „I received a very kind note."

Sgyun was looking relieved. „They _may_ complain about each other. The nas hold that the ngahyak are embodiments of the spirit of our world, and that it is our business to care for them. The yulghiar maintain that they are guardians of the world, and that our duty is to interpret their will and act accordingly. You can see the potential for friction."

„You'll understand by now, Captain – that's why the body is called the Unity," quipped the chancellor, and the Venerable Sgyun gave him a sour-looking little smile.

„I'll include three priests as well. They should be able to keep the peace, and they will act as liaisons. One of them will be a trained physician in case a ngahyak develops an ailment the layghiar are unable to cure. His name is Lialnru. Gysial Uns happens to be both a priest and a civil servant. I think Asghiul will make an excellent third. He is the one working on the technical details with your crew right now, Captain."

Picard found himself frowning with concentration. „And – just for curiosity's sake – what sects do _they_ belong to?"

„Officially-appointed priests are not allowed to belong to any one sect, Captain. They report directly to the Unity. On this mission their task is to provide an impartial and unified authority to settle whatever questions and minor disagreements may occur."

At that point the chancellor gave an ominous little snort of amusement. A little too hastily the captain asked: „So there is no danger of disagreements occurring among the priests?"

He realized a moment later that he had asked the wrong question. Chancellor Nyk leaned back in his chair with the Yalnragian equivalent of a broad grin. He even went so far as to steeple his three-fingered hands. Sgyun was looking slightly flustered.

„Er... if I may inquire what makes you ask that, Captain?"

„Well", Picard said quickly, „you did ask _me_ to keep an eye on the nas and the yulghiar..."

„Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Really, I don't anticipate any trouble at all. They all want one thing – to see the ngahyak safe, healthy, and content. The ngahyak's welfare is what this is all about, Captain. They won't forget _that_ I can assure you."

Picard found that he wasn't too sure about the sound of all this, but he privately told himself that he should be able to handle a few quarrelsome priests during the trip to Brentalia. There were more important things to settle.

„So they'll be willing to make some concessions to the technical necessities? You will understand my concern – my chief engineer has informed me that the ngahyak will not eat anything but fresh grass, and that our stasis units would barely be sufficient for the amount of grass they'll require en route to Brentalia. We must remain prepared for emergencies. Will replicated grass do?"

„It'll have to do", Sgyun replied gravely. „Some members of the Unity would not be happy, Captain, but I trust you. Can you assure me that your chief medical officer will supervise the replicating process?"

„She'll be honored," he replied without thinking, and then realized that Beverly Crusher might not have put it that way. He also realized, belatedly, that he had somehow slipped into Klingon Mode again.

The chancellor and the cleric exchanged a look, and then got to their feet, all harmony again.

„Captain," said Nyk while Picard rose as well, extricating himself from his hammock-like chair with as much dignity as possible, „we'll have to get back to the council chamber in a moment – the cabinet should be gathering there for the Emissary's report right now. And yours, of course. But first let me thank you personally for all you have done for us. Of course my esteemed colleagues will do the same, officially" – and the two dignitaries exchanged another brief look – „but for myself I'd like to tell you what a pleasure it has been working with you."

_Oh dear_, thought Picard, the experiences of a dozen years in diplomacy telling him beyond a doubt what the outcome of this was going to be. „Thank you, Chancellor. The pleasure has been mine, but the credit should go to you and your people," he replied, professionally, and the chancellor's face lit up with equally professional delight. _I just hope it's not called the Order of the Ngahyak or something like that _–_ Will would never let me hear the end of it._

**- - - - - - - -**


	20. Chapter 20

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 19**

„I still find it highly unlikely that any animal should be able to smell another through a duranium wall," said the captain, shaking his head as he reached for his tea mug.

„Well, I wouldn't have believed it either. But it's a fact that those brutes are now ramming the bulkhead from both sides, in exactly the same place. I've seen them."

„Will, I think it might be a good idea to avoid calling them that. With nineteen Yalnragians on board..."

„Our dumb guests, then. Except they're really rather noisy. Oh, by the way, Asghiul is reorganizing everything within a hundred meters of the cargo bays. He told me the ngahyak are disturbed by the sound of the engines. It's an abomination. And apparently they took your promise that Doctor Crusher would oversee the replicating of food to mean she'd be present every time grass for the b- the ngahyak is needed, which is practically all the time. And," said Will Riker, delivering the punchline, „Geordi says he's done everything he can in the way of soundproofing. It won't get better than this."

The captain sighed. „I think I can hear them _now_," he said. In fact the braying and bellowing of the sixteen ngahyak caused subtle sounds and vibrations all over the ship, carried by the duranium framework, perhaps. It was an unnerving sensation. And they had been on their way for barely a day now.

„Well," he added without much hope, „perhaps the priests will loosen up a little once they realize we are doing everything within our powers to make those animals comfortable. I think we should give them a dinner or something like that. Will, what _is_ the secret of that folder you brought along?"

„Oh, that!" Riker brightened as he lifted a large old-fashioned folder that had been leaning against the second chair, and put it down on Picard's desk. „I thought you'd like to see this, sir. It's something Worf told me about. I had a drink with Lieutenant Melendez in Ten Forward last night, and she agreed to let me look at it, and I asked if I could borrow it for a day or two, and – well, what do you think?" he asked, spreading a number of watercolor paintings on the desk.

Picard lifted one of them and then another, looking at them without a word, and the first officer saw the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. After a while the captain said: „She is really quite good."

„That's what I thought. Have you seen this one, with the four layghiar on the hilltop?"

„I wish I could have seen those hills," Picard said, a little wistfully. „Conference rooms look the same wherever you go, but this... Oh dear, is that the emissary?"

„Yes, isn't it wonderful. It must have been really _windy_ that day. And look at this. I've never seen Worf with a sample container."

„He doesn't look happy," commented the captain.

„I don't think he was. There's another one here. Looks rather dramatic, with all that windblown grass, doesn't it. And there – ngahyak in the distance. Idyllic."

„And Ito meditating. Will, do you think you could leave those with me? I'd like to look at them, but really –" The captain indicated a stack of padds with a resigned shrug.

„Actually –" Riker hesitated. "To be honest, I didn't tell Melendez I'd show them to you, sir. Didn't want to make her nervous – she's a bit shy. Would you mind if I dropped by later with the folder? That way I can give them back whenever she asks for them."

„Of course." Picard watched as Riker stacked the paintings and carefully put them back into the folder. „Join me for an after-dinner drink. There's something _I_'d like to show you, too," he added with a wry smile.

Riker grinned as he got up from his chair. „Let me guess. That piece of local art the chancellor promised you? Can't wait to see it."

Down in his quarters he put the folder down on a chair, opened it, looked through the sheets of watercolor paper and removed a small sketch of the campsite. Off to the left Tyr-Aurell was sitting on a folding stool, with what was clearly the tribble on her lap. _Just as well he didn't take a closer look. I was really asking for it there_, he thought, and added the sheet to a small stack of others waiting on the table. He had been quite certain he had weeded out any that had the tribble in them.

**- - - - - - - -**

Lieutenant Worf had seen the first officer emerge from the ready room with a large folder under his arm, and disappear into the turbolift with a quick friendly nod in his direction, and now he had an opportunity to do what he had been planning to do.

He had reached the limits of his endurance. He couldn't bear it any longer. The line had to be drawn somewhere. Anyway, the danger, if there had been any danger, should be past now. What would the emissary want with a guard on this of all ships – a ship that had him as security chief?

Even so he was feeling deeply torn as he made his way down the ramp towards the ready room. He had never before asked to be released from an assignment his captain had given him.

The captain didn't look at all displeased at being interrupted. A formidable number of padds were scattered on the desk. Worf waited for the door to close in his back, and pulled himself to attention.

„Sir, I would ask a favor."

„Go on, Lieutenant."

„With your permission, I would like to return to my regular duties. There is no further danger to the emissary."

Picard looked at him thoughtfully for a few moments. At last he said: „Mr. Worf, I confess I find some things about this assignment a little puzzling. I've had a feeling that you are not entirely happy with it, but then you and the emissary are unanimous in praising each other. Would you mind telling me what it is you find so hard about this?"

Worf's shoulders sagged a little. Had he really fooled himself into thinking the captain wouldn't go into details?

„Sir, I have nothing but respect for the emissary. However –" He swallowed. This was the hard part. He was feeling foolish standing here. He was feeling that somehow, somewhere, he was missing something. He was aware of a faint apprehension – what if this meant he was falling short of what was expected of him? For a couple of seconds he was on the point of excusing himself and walking straight out again. But then the ordeal would begin anew. And it was unlikely that the captain would let him off the hook now. After one look at those hazel eyes looking up at him with anticipation and a trace of concern Worf amended this. It was utterly out of the question that the captain would let him off the hook now. He decided to get it over with.

„I have found the tribble... distracting," he managed with a huge effort, almost choking on the last word.

The captain was looking a little blank. There was a pause. Worf set his teeth and studied the wall.

„The _tribble_?" asked Picard. „There was a _tribble_ on that planet?"

„Sir?" said Worf, thrown.

„I wasn't aware... Worf, what tribble are you talking about?"

Worf frowned, lost for good now. „The emissary's tribble... sir."

„I didn't know she has one," said the captain, flatly, sounding utterly taken aback.

Worf stared. And then, all of a sudden, desperation took over. „Sir," he said, drawing a deep breath, „I will not be negligent in my duties. I will not allow it to come to any harm. But I would prefer not having to spend more time in its presence. It is _loathsome_ to me. If it is required I will, of course –" And then he stopped, hands clenched. He couldn't say it. He couldn't admit the sheer mortification of it all. He could only hope that the captain would understand. He waited.

„Oh my God," said the captain. There was the faintest hint of a quiver in his voice. „Oh, my. Lieutenant, I am truly sorry. I... of course I'll grant your request. You're quite right, it is highly unlikely that she will be in any danger aboard the ship. I'll... that is, you're dismissed."

Worf drew a deep breath. „Thank you, sir."

„You are quite welcome." There was something a little odd about the captain's response, thought Worf – gratifying as it was. Picard was looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite remember having seen before. A certain rigidity in the corners of his mouth, perhaps. And he really couldn't explain that flutter in Picard's voice. Anyway, he was clearly expected to leave now, so in the end he turned on his heel and left, both puzzlement and mortification drowned out by a wave of unspeakable relief.

The moment the door had finally closed Picard buried his face in his hands. It had been an almost inhuman effort to keep a straight face in front of Worf, and he knew he had managed just barely – but then Worf had (mercifully) never seen his commanding officer dissolve into helpless laughter before, so there was a good chance he hadn't noticed. And he felt guilty about it, and unprincipled, and he had a strange but distinct feeling that there were wheels within wheels here and that, once looked at more closely, the question of the strangely elusive pet might well yield monstrous revelations, but at the moment the thought of one tribble on a collision course with Klingon warrior pride was about as much as he could handle. He would look into it, he vowed to himself. He would find out what it was that was missing here. He would, somehow, get to the bottom of this –

He would have to stop shaking with silent laughter first, though.

Will Riker returned a few minutes later, walking in with a half-apologetic, half-exasperated gesture. „Sorry to bother you again, Captain," he said without preamble, „but I've just had a communication from that vet priest, Lialnru... Sir," he interrupted himself, „are you all right?"

Picard nodded. „Perfectly, Will. What is it about Lialnru?"

Riker looked at him for a moment with a slight frown, wondering if he was imagining things or if the captain's voice had really been sounding a little unsteady. In the end he continued, more slowly than before: „It's just that Lialnru and those two members of the nas sect want an _audience_ with you – their way of putting it, not mine. I'd say they want to complain. And the representative of the ghandu told Geordi that any attempt by other sects to exert undue influence would be objected to very strongly. And there has been an incident. A crewman said something pretty unkind to the layghiar regarding their drumming – apparently he had work to do in the cargobays when the... when our noisy friends were sleeping, and he couldn't stomach those tambourines. You'd better expect their grievance, sir."

„I expect nothing else these days," sighed Picard. „Very well – I'll call a meeting with the senior staff and the priests. All three of them, and the emissary of course. No sect representatives – if we invite one we'll have to invite all. Tell the priests to ask everybody for, er, contributions. Let's just settle this business once and for all, shall we?"

**- - - - - - - -**

„Well, sir, I'm frightfully sorry, but they'll have to live with that!" Geordi La Forge's voice was rising dangerously. „If you want to arrive at Brentalia within the century, that is. You can't change the laws of physics."

„We are very sorry that the ngahyak react so unfavorably to the sound of the warp engines," Picard said quickly, and (he hoped) soothingly, before one of the priests could react. „But my chief engineer has a point. We can't shut down the engines, gentlemen."

„In that case you'll forgive me for saying that your ship's soundproofing leaves something to be desired, Captain. And you never warned us that your engines would prove so disruptive," Lialnru said accusingly.

„I didn't know the animals are as sensitive as that," replied Picard, fighting to keep all traces of exasperation out of his voice. After another unrestful night, with the walls of his quarters softly vibrating with the noise of mating ngahyak, he was feeling less charitable than usual. La Forge was seething quietly. Fortunately Tyr-Aurell intervened before the chief engineer could say any of the things that were evidently crossing his mind.

„The layghiar speaker has assured me that the ngahyak are actually taking it quite well, sir. I would suggest we give them another couple of days to adjust and review the situation after that. They may settle down."

„The ngahyak are known to react very sensitively to changes in the atmosphere, if you take my meaning, Emissary – Captain," Asghiul said pointedly. „Petty complaints and digs by crewmen cannot be tolerated. The sylgna have told me that such things occur. They are an abomination."

„I'll have a word with everybody concerned," Riker said gravely from his customary seat at Picard's left. „It will not happen again."

„Very well." Lialnru and Asghiul exchanged a brief look. The third priest, Gysial Uns, who hadn't said a word so far, was merely looking on with a disapproving expression. „There is another thing," Lialnru went on. „The replication of food for the ngahyak."

_Please_, the captain found himself thinking. _Don't tell me they won't eat replicated grass after all_. Mustering an expression of polite concern he asked: „What is it you would like changed?"

„We would like your chief medical officer to oversee the process as promised. She was present when the first load of grass was replicated, but afterwards we have been sent a mere lieutenant. This is unacceptable."

„I am sorry for the misunderstanding," Doctor Crusher chimed in, „but I did oversee the process as I understood the arrangement. I worked out the formula myself, I scanned the first load to make sure, I stayed to watch the ngahyak eating it. I even checked their droppings afterwards," she added with a certain amount of bitterness, looking daggers at an all too obviously amused La Forge. „You'll admit I have to sleep sometimes, and just occasionally there's a patient who needs me."

„But this is not how we interpreted the arrangement. For almost two days now the overseeing of the replicating process has been entrusted to a junior officer. It is an abomination. We tried to inform you of this, Captain. Unfortunately your first officer refused to let us see you."

Picard turned towards Riker, one eyebrow raised. „He did?"

„Well, not exactly." Riker's patience was very evidently wearing thin. „I said I'd put it to you, sir – which you'll remember I did. At the time the gentlemen appeared on the bridge you were off shift. Very much off shift, sir. I confess that I did refuse to wake you in the middle of the night over a misunderstanding of this, er, magnitude."

„I would have expected the captain of this ship to be available when issues of ngahyak welfare demand it," Asghiul said rather sharply. „Those sixteen animals have been entrusted to _you_, Captain, and we would appreciate it if your officers did not interfere. Under the circumstances it would be only appropriate if you would agree to be available at all times."

There was an outraged gasp from somewhere further down the table, and before either Picard or Riker could think of an answer Worf had provided it. „_Not likely_," said the security chief, in a rumble that conveyed a nice blend of annoyance and haughty amusement. The three priests turned as one, looking at him incredulously.

„_No?_" asked Asghiul, dangerously. „You would deny us –"

„Gentlemen," Picard interrupted rather hastily, „there may be a solution to your problem. If you would agree to replicating a large amount of ngahyak food at certain times – say, four times a day – I could promise you that one of my senior officers will be there to oversee the process. I'm sure Mr. Data wouldn't mind making this a part of his regular duties."

„Not at all," Data said readily. „I would be more than willing to add direct observation to the empirical data I have been processing during the last two weeks."

„Er..." The three priests exchanged a look, then Lialnru said: „With all due respect, Captain, even if the ngahyak could be expected to eat grass that is not fresh – as fresh as your replicators can make it, that is – in other words, even if they were to eat _replicated_ grass that has been stored for _several hours_ – you'll forgive us for saying that your second officer is hardly the appropriate person to ensure their welfare."

„Really," said Picard. „Why's that?"

„Because he is a machine," Asghiul replied bluntly. „The ngahyak are manifestations of the spirit of our world. Those who care for them should be pervaded by that spirit as well. At the very least they should be filled with a living spirit. Your second officer is not."

Data was looking intrigued Picard noticed; he even saw him opening his mouth, no doubt in order to inquire after the nature of this spirit. He didn't wait for him to ask. „Gentlemen," he said, rather pointedly, „Mr. Data has been ruled a living being by Starfleet. In any case I would thank you for refraining from making assumptions about my officers. You have been offered several choices. You can supervise the replicating of ngahyak food yourself, you can ask a medical officer to do it for you, or you can put your faith in Mr. Data. I'm afraid those are your options. I'm not going to reassign –"

„Perhaps I could help," Tyr-Aurell said gently, causing the captain to break off his slightly heated monologue in midsentence. „I'm not a doctor, of course, but I'm a zoologist with a little bit of ngahyak experience – as much of it as any member of this crew can boast, anyway. I would be happy to provide supervision for part of the time."

There was a short pause. Then Lialnru asked, suspiciously: „And the rest of the time –?"

„Well, I could be available for some of it," Crusher said. „Not all of it, mind you."

„It seems as if you're left with those same options for the remaining time," Riker offered with a heartless smile, which brought him a look of weary reproach from Picard.

Asghiul rose from his chair, and the other two priests followed suit. „We thank you for your help, Captain," he said frostily. „The urgent nature of this issue would seem to dictate that we discuss it with the sects before we get back to the other matters. Please, excuse us."

„Any time," Riker muttered under his breath as the three men filed out of the room.

„O dear," commented Tyr-Aurell when the door had hissed shut in their wake.

„Well –!" added Crusher.

„Quite," said the captain.

**- - - - - - - -**


	21. Chapter 21

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 20**

„So you talked about the cultural similarities between Ruylan II and the Klingon homeworld." Will Riker was sitting back in the captain's chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, while Worf was leaning over the Tactical console above. „And then?"

„There are dissimilarities as well." Worf was looking comfortable, Will Riker thought – more comfortable than he had looked in ages. Both elbows on the wooden railing, feet slightly apart; by Worf's standards he was positively lounging. „A different warrior code. A differently structured society."

„Well, but did the two of you just sit there deep into the night discussing your respective cultures?" Part of his mind refused to believe it. Another part knew perfectly well that that was precisely what had happened.

„She also introduced me to a drink called gulma." From his long familiarity with his friend and crewmate Riker could tell that Worf had enjoyed it. _He would_. Not that he himself hadn't liked the stuff, but he had been feeling very slightly odd for hours afterwards.

„You spent the evening on gulma?" he asked, just to make sure.

„No," Worf replied earnestly. „I also replicated some prune juice. She appeared to like it. She drank two glassesful."

_Hell_, Riker thought involuntarily as he tried to imagine the combination. _They must have stomachs like oxen, both of them_. „And the, er, pet behaved itself?"

„She had locked it away in the bedroom." Worf was looking thoughtful now. „Commander, I would like your opinion on something. I do not understand it. Yesterday I mentioned the pet when I requested –"

The aft turbolift door hissed open before Worf could finish his sentence. Riker twisted round to see who was entering, and his expression darkened. Worf even thought he could hear him murmuring „Not _again_" just before the first officer got to his feet. „What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

The three priests made their stately way down the ramp, their blue robes swishing. By now Riker could tell them apart easily – Asghiul by his belligerent demeanor and the silent one, Gysial Uns, by his eternally disapproving expression, which meant that the third man had to be Lialnru. When they were lined up in front of him he knew there would be trouble.

„We need to speak to the captain, Commander Riker," said Lialnru.

„Perhaps you would like to tell me what this is about? I may be able to help you."

„We will only speak to the captain." Asghiul crossed his arms in a very Human-looking gesture. For a fleeting moment Riker found himself wondering if the priest had borrowed it from himself. He was on the point of saying something to the effect that the captain was uncommonly busy when the ready room door swished open.

„Anything I can help you with, Number One?"

To those who knew him the captain's voice held both resignation and a certain grim amusement. The priests turned as one.

„We would like a word with you, Captain."

„Certainly. Please come in."

The door closed behind the last of the three. Riker groaned softly as he turned back towards Worf.

„Worf, is there anything – short of a warp core breach – we could come up with to get them out of there?"

In his ready room Picard sat down behind his desk, folded his hands on the glossy surface and said: „I hope nothing untoward has been happening, gentlemen."

„There have been no more _incidents_, Captain." Lialnru put a subtle stress on the word. „We are, however, worried."

„You alarm me," Picard replied. „What is it that has you worried?"

„The ngahyak require a certain amount of... tranquillity, Captain. We are afraid certain activities on your ship interfere with this."

The captain looked down on his hands for a moment. „I am very sorry to hear it, gentlemen. However, if you are referring to the disturbance caused by the warp engines –"

„No, Captain, we are not." Asghiul pulled himself up. „You have made it very clear that this is something the animals will have to put up with. So, naturally, will we."

„We are referring to a disturbance of a different kind. One that _can_ be avoided." Lialnru was studying the window behind the captain's desk. Stars were streaking past, to vanish in the distance.

„The ngahyak," said Asghiul, „are adversely affected by a certain kind of frivolous social activity which is apparently going on all the time. We had been told about your crew lounge, but we hadn't realized it is open at all times."

„The nas and myal-lun representatives appear to _frequent_ it," Lialnru added with barely-concealed disgust. „We had to point out to them that locations and activities harmful to the welfare of the ngahyak should not be sought out by those ostensibly serving them."

„It is an abomination," stated Asghiul.

„Er... excuse my ignorance," Picard said gently, „but in what way are the activities in the Ten-Forward lounge affecting the ngahyak?"

„They cause disturbances – harmful changes in the atmosphere." Asghiul took a step forward. „Frivolous, unfocused diversions have a disruptive effect on the ngahyaks' peace of mind. They are used to a certain harmony in the vibrations surrounding them – a harmony we are here to ensure. That harmony has been severely compromised already. Replicated food, the noise of your warp engines, confinement, lack of fresh air –" Asghiul took a deep breath, apparently refraining from saying more. „They are subjected to great hardships. The least you can do is to make sure they are not put to additional suffering."

„By asking my crew not to indulge in, er, frivolous and unfocused diversions?" the captain replied, eyebrows raised.

If Asghiul was at all aware of an element of sarcasm he didn't show it. In fact his answer sounded a trifle impatient. „By closing this lounge of yours, Captain." And when he saw Picard's eyebrows going up even further he continued with an unusual amount of venom: „We have put up with a great deal already. We understand it to be your duty to look after the ngahyak to the best of your abilities. We will not allow them to be harrassed unnecessarily. You will have to act now."

„Seems I will," Picard said, almost to himself. „Gentlemen, we have a journey of another ten days before us. I am sincerely sorry to hear that the ngahyak don't take to space travel, but then they'll be safely planetside again soon, which is more than could be said about my crew – and I must say that _they_ have put up with a great deal already. You are keeping my bridge officers busy on ngahyak business, you are reorganising my ship, you are banning people from going where they have every right to go, you are dictating ways of conduct and expression, and now you are telling me I'll have to close one of the few places where people can relax. I'm afraid I can't do that. I will not allow my crew to be harrassed unnecessarily."

„_Unnecessarily_, Captain?" Asghiul's voice was rising dangerously. Lialnru looked thunderstruck. Gysial Uns, silent as usual, was studying the fishbowl with a disapproving expression – again as usual.

„Yes, gentlemen, _unnecessarily_." The captain was aware of a slight throbbing behind his temples. Noise of the warp engines indeed. He hadn't slept much this night either, and the warp engines weren't to blame. „We have done our best to make the ngahyak comfortable. You can testify to that. But if you now maintain that the normal activities of normal people constitute a disturbance to those sixteen animals then all I can say is that they will have to live with it. And so, as you observed earlier yourselves, will you."

Silence. The three priests were exchanging glances. Picard hadn't consciously changed anything about his own tone of voice, but he now realized that his words must have had a carrying quality to them. After a moment or two Asghiul pulled himself up.

„Are we to understand, then, that you will do nothing to put an end to this – outrage?"

„I won't close Ten Forward, if that is what you mean. No."

„And you will not order your crew to refrain from activities such as play and idle chatter?"

„No, I won't." The captain gave an involuntary sigh. „I couldn't if I wanted to, you know. Try to understand – you're expecting people to –"

Picard interrupted himself as he realized that the priests were not listening. Asghiul had turned on his heel, and was heading for the door. Lialnru gave him a withering look before following his colleague's example. Gysial Uns lingered for a moment, looking as if he would have liked to add something, but then he stalked after the others without a word. The door swished open.

Asghiul had actually stepped through when he turned back. „We are disappointed, Captain. Deeply disappointed." He drew a breath. „However, we are merely servants. Let me just tell you that those who wilfully refuse to respect the ngahyak in the manner due to them have been known to meet with ends both untimely and uncomely." And with that parting shot he left, allowing the door to close.

He wasn't privileged to see the effect of his words, of course. But then there wasn't much to be seen. Picard leaned back in his chair, very slowly shaking his head.

„That could have gone better," he muttered, to no one in particular.

Outside on the bridge, however, Asghiul's statement was met differently. Riker frowned, sitting up in the center chair. Behind the Tactical console, Worf froze. Halfway up the ramp the priests appeared to notice the suddenly ugly atmosphere. Asghiul stopped for a moment on meeting Worf's black scowl, and his colleagues followed his example.

„There is no need to worry," he said stiffly, turning back towards Riker, who had by now risen to his feet. „I was merely quoting the Books of the Ancients. Commander, I would appreciate it very much if you would assign us a private lounge where we can discuss business with the sect representatives."

„Certainly," Riker said after just a moment. „Use the one on deck five, just down the corridor from your own quarters."

„Thank you, Commander," Asghiul replied, and left with his companions, blue robes swishing.

„Something tells me," said Riker to the bridge in general, „that this one didn't end with a compromise."

„Permission to leave the bridge," Worf growled from above.

The first officer turned, craning his neck. Worf was looking murderous.

„Anything in particular, Worf?"

„Merely some business I would attend to, Commander."

The sudden linguistic switch towards Klingon formality told Riker all he needed to know. „Granted," he said easily. „Just don't turn the ship into a fortress."

Worf gave him an uncomprehending scowl before leaving his station, and Riker swallowed a grin. Of course the _Enterprise_'s security chief wouldn't turn the ship into a fortress. He would post additional security, run a detailed check on all internal sensors, review the ID files of every Yalnragian aboard, pull surprise inspections, put the fear of God into his subordinates, add a patrol tour or two to his own schedule and generally make a nuisance of himself, but he wouldn't be turning the ship into a fortress – he'd merely be doing his duty. As Worf had told Riker on a couple of occasions, he had no patience with paranoia.

Lieutenant Worf, in the meantime, made his way briskly towards the little-used security station on deck nine, there to do some research and review the duty roster of ship's security. But he hadn't rounded the corner from the turbolift when a faint, familiar sound struck his ears. He slowed down, frowning in distaste and sudden suspicion. The sound was drawing closer. It was a sound he wouldn't forget for the rest of his life. He came to a stop just before reaching an intersection and waited, teeth bared.

Seconds later a layghiar came into view. He was walking slowly and meditatively, softly working his tambourine as he went. Worf moved out into the intersection, rudely stopping the layghiar's progress – in fact almost stepping on his foot. The man lowered his tambourine, looking startled.

„What are you doing here?" demanded Worf.

„I am –" The man pulled himself up with a sound that sounded curiously like a clearing of the throat. „I am cleansing the atmosphere. I was not aware... that is to say, is my presence unwelcome?"

It was. The captain's quarters were on this deck. Worf wasn't going to allow anybody to prowl these corridors on any excuse whatsoever. „Cleansing the atmosphere of what?" he asked, none too politely.

„The ngahyak are disturbed by the disharmony emanating from your lounge. It is very close." The layghiar actually cast a brief nervous look at the floor that separated them from Ten Forward. „We have been told to restore harmony to the best of our abilities."

„By the priests." Worf nodded. He knew perfectly well that even his nod could appear menacing.

„Yes. By the representatives of the Unity."

„You will not enter this deck again. There are no ngahyak here. You will have to do your cleansing elsewhere. I cannot allow strangers access to deck nine."

The layghiar looked puzzled. „But we have been granted access to all non-sensitive areas. You will understand – the welfare of the ngahyak must be our chief concern."

„I do understand," said Worf, and he did. He had seen them at their work. They were protectors. Unworthy as the subject of their attentions might appear to him, their singlemindedness was… honorable. „But as of now, this deck is a sensitive area. I will thank you all for keeping this in mind." After all, the welfare of his captain was _his_ chief concern, and he'd be damned before he allowed a group of animal worshippers to interfere with it. Somewhat belatedly he added: „There is no disharmony emanating from this ship's lounge."

The layghiar looked up at him. „What makes you believe this?" he asked, curiously.

„I know. I am this ship's Chief of Security." He watched it registering. „If anything harmful were to emanate from Ten Forward," he added, with impeccable logic, „I would be the first to notice."

„You, too, are a guardian." The layghiar said it quite matter-of-factly. He wasn't afraid of him any longer either. Worf realized it without rancor. He nodded.

The layghiar tilted his head slightly, looking thoughtful. „I will put it to my brethren."

Worf nodded again. „The turbolift is this way," he said, helpfully, and stood watching as the layghiar wandered down the corridor, still looking thoughtful even from behind.

**- - - - - - -**


	22. Chapter 22

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 21**

„They are _what_?" Picard was aware of a faint disturbing feeling that reality – or what passed for reality right now on his ship – was slipping from his grasp. It might have something to do with several nights of broken sleep, but that was something he shared with everybody else. Riker, in his usual chair on the other side of the ready room desk, was rubbing his eyes.

„They are recommending the use of Ten Forward as a place of rest and relaxation, sir. Asghiul is absolutely _livid_. Apparently the layghiar spokesman – name of Silm – confronted the priests last night when they were trying to clear their people out of Ten Forward –"

„He did," Tyr-Aurell chimed in from the sofa. „I was there."

„Seems Worf convinced the layghiar there is no harm in it. And of course there are a few sect representatives who used to spend most of their time there anyway before they were told off –"

„The nas and the myal-lun," said Picard, mechanically. Riker gave him a startled look.

„Well, _they_ were there as well. And –"

„It was quite a gathering," supplied Tyr-Aurell.

„And then Asghiul and Lialnru walked in, and there was an almighty row. Say Guinan and Barclay and Geordi and a few others."

„Including me." Tyr-Aurell stifled a yawn. „Silm told Asghiul that he had it on the authority of Lieutenant Worf, a fellow guardian and an _ilnu_ – that is their term for one who is sensitive to harmful influences, you will have to admit it fits the lieutenant quite well, Captain –, that there was nothing unwholesome about Ten Forward."

„Ilnu – er, _fellow guardian_?" echoed Picard over Riker's snort of delight. For some reason he found himself thinking immediately of Worf and the tribble. He had been tempted to tell the story to his first officer but hadn't managed to bring himself to do it. Poor Worf – Will wouldn't let him hear the end of it, ever.

„Those were was the terms he used," Tyr-Aurell said gravely. „Asghiul apparently thought Silm was challenging his authority, and I am not even sure he wasn't right. I believe –" She tried to suppress another yawn. „I beg your pardon, Captain – Commander. The nights have been a little unrestful of late. Anyway, I am under the impression that some of the sects rather resent being supervised in this, well, _direct_ manner."

„So now the layghiar are teaming up with Worf to undermine the priests' authority?" Riker wasn't even trying to hide his glee.

„Well, not _exactly_, Commander. I am under the impression –" She broke off as the door alarm cheeped. Picard gave an audible sigh.

„Come!"

The door slid open to reveal a visitor nobody had been expecting. Gysial Uns took a few measured steps into the room, allowing the door to close.

„Captain. Emissary. Commander." He pulled himself up, three-fingered hands hidden in the sleeves of his blue robe, looking as full of disapproval as ever. Picard realized he had never even heard his voice before. „I have been informed of a disagreement which took place in your crew lounge last night."

„Would you like to discuss it in private?" the captain asked gently.

„I would like not having to discuss it at all," Gysial Uns replied, giving Riker and Tyr-Aurell a withering glance. „However, seeing that my esteemed colleagues appear determined on making fools of themselves in public..." He caught a slightly startled look from Picard, and his expression became more forbidding if possible. „Captain, allow me to be brief on this. Our function here is to settle conflicts, not to create them. I am a civil servant, my point of view may differ slightly from that of my colleagues. I will not offer an opinion on the differences currently experienced within our group. I would merely like you to know that I don't object to people using your lounge. From now on you may even find _me_ there occasionally. Not because I seek diversion," he added, sternly, „but because I disapprove of the line taken by others. Captain. Emissary, Commander." And with that he bowed very slightly, turned on his heel, and walked out again.

Picard looked at Riker, then at Tyr-Aurell. The first officer was the first to speak.

„There'll be murder next," he said, dispassionately.

Picard looked up at the intercom grid set in the ceiling. „Picard to bridge."

„Bridge here," Data's voice replied with its usual placid efficiency.

„Mr. Data, please go to warp seven immediately."

„Captain, may I remind you of the rules Starfleet has issued regarding speeds surpassing warp five? We are cruising at warp six already, following your orders of last night. It –"

„Thank you, Mr. Data, I am quite familiar with the situation. Carry out my order, please."

„I am much obliged, Captain." Tyr-Aurell got to her feet with slightly less than her usual grace. „I don't think I can hear them right now – must be their rest period. I believe I'll go and get some rest myself while I can. Oh, before I forget – will your schedule allow you to honor our appointment tonight, Captain?"

„Of course." Picard smiled up at her. „I wouldn't miss it."

„Appointment?" echoed Riker the moment she had left.

Picard looked at him earnestly, hands crossed on his desk. There were, thought Riker, moments when he could have sworn his captain was laughing at him.

„To play chess. In Ten Forward."

„Oh." Riker frowned. „Under the circumstances Ten Forward may not be very peaceful."

„Well," sighed Picard, „perhaps it'll even help if they see this ship's captain exposing himself to whatever unhealthiness the place exudes."

„Er… how long to Brentalia, again?" asked Riker.

„Six days, I think, at warp seven."

They exchanged a wordless look, then Riker heaved himself out of his chair. „Sir, why don't you get some rest as well? Those brutes – begging your pardon, the lifeforms in question – _are_ silent right now."

„Perhaps I should." Picard was looking wistful. „Perhaps we both should – while we can."

**- - - - - - -**

„Lieutenant –" The captain leaned back in his chair, both hands on the armrests, and tried again. „Worf, I appreciate your zeal, but I really don't believe Asghiul meant anything in particular. I _certainly_ don't believe him to be dangerous."

„He will have no opportunity to be a danger." Worf was at his most forbidding – shoulders squared, chin raised; the determination was thick enough to cut. „But he did threaten you, sir."

„He cited some ancient text because he was annoyed with me. That in itself doesn't call for security patroling deck nine, Worf." What he didn't say was that his first thought on leaving his quarters after a full three hours of unbroken sleep, and almost bumping into Beya and Sanders, had been a sudden and very brief flash of hope that the last few days had been nothing but a particularly absurd dream. He added firmly: „I expect them to be recalled as soon as possible. There must be better things to do for them than prowling the corridors chasing shadows."

„Yes, sir," Worf said readily.

Picard blinked. It wasn't quite the reaction he had been expecting from his security chief. „I beg your pardon?"

Worf looked slightly confused. „There _are_ better things to do for them than chasing shadows... sir."

„Worf," the captain said carefully, „I am not entirely sure I made my point. We're agreed that suspecting dangers in the most innocuous circumstances can be a little self-defeating?"

„I agree, sir," replied Worf gravely. „Creating enemies in the mind is foolishness. It is a waste of time and a distraction. It may even blind you to the presence of real enemies nearby. I have told my subordinates that they must not allow themselves to be distracted."

„But," Picard said, floundering slightly, „my point is that I believe Asghiul to be quite harmless. He spoke in anger. Worf, I'm really quite sure they won't harm me."

„No, sir." Worf straightened, sounding more determined than before if possible. „You may be assured that they will not."

„Lieutenant," sighed Picard, „that wasn't what I meant."

„Captain?"

Picard gave it up. „Never mind. Just recall those patrols, please. I don't want the priests to report to the government of Yalnrag that they were suspected and insulted on the trip. And frankly, I find the security a little distracting myself."

Worf gave what sounded like a tiny sigh. „Yes, Captain."

„That will be all."

Worf left, pondering. Picard looked after him, trying not to feel guilty. Worf certainly seemed to be bearing the brunt of this assignment. The tribble, and the ngahyak, and the layghiar, and the priests. He got to his feet and went over to the replicator to get his dinner. He'd be meeting Tyr-Aurell for a game of chess in about half an hour.

**- - - - - - -**


	23. Chapter 23

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 22**

Lieutenant Worf wasn't entirely sure what had gone wrong in his discussion with the captain. For once his commanding officer had appeared quite reasonable, and then all of a sudden he had reverted to that peculiar type of non sequitur Worf had grown accustomed to. Worf had taken his security off patrol duty, of course – after all it had been a direct order. But he was still pondering the unpredictability and general perverseness of his captain when he instructed Ensign Hardanger in the intricacies of photon torpedo operations later that day.

„Torpedo loading," he explained, standing over a torpedo casing in the aft launch control room, „is time-consuming. It takes several seconds once the first spread has been fired. It is generally preferable not to fire a full spread. Choose your targets with care. Do not waste ammunition."

Hardanger nodded. „There are only two hundred and seventy-five casings," she said. „I understand."

Worf liked Ensign Hardanger. He thought her uncommonly promising. He liked the fact that she knew the exact number of photon torpedo casings carried by the ship, and the fact that she spoke of _only_ two hundred and seventy-five. „I will schedule a specialized drill next week," he announced, and Hardanger's eyes lit up. „You are dismissed."

It was quite late in the evening by now. He decided to go for a walk. Not a patrol, of course, merely a walk. It would take him to deck five (where the priests were lodged) and to deck eight (where Tyr-Aurell's quarters were situated) and to deck nine – which was where the captain lived. Lieutenant Worf might have wished his commanding officer to be a little less trusting at times, but then it wasn't the captain's business to ensure his own safety (fortunately, Worf couldn't help adding to himself). He had others to do that for him. He had his Chief of Security, for one. Lieutenant Worf left the launch control room, and proceeded towards the nearest turbolift.

He didn't get very far. A few steps down the corridor he became aware of an unusual disturbance some distance ahead. The cargobays were on this deck. So, naturally, were the ngahyak, carefully separated – males on starboard, females on port. He stopped to listen, and thought he heard a faint, shrill screech from somewhere ahead. At that, he broke into a run.

Female ngahyak, they said, were comparatively docile and quiet. The snarl that met his ears the moment the doors opened onto the dimly-lit cargobay was more menacing than anything he had ever heard from the males. A group of Yalnragians had gathered in front of the bars separating the observation area from the rest of the cargobay, shouting and babbling and blocking his view. He grabbed two of them by their respective garments, shoving them out of the way. What he saw made his blood run cold.

He had heard that one of the ngahyak had had a calf, of course – the interminable drumming the occasion had required would have caught his attention if nothing else had. He also knew that the mother had been moved to a smaller cargobay along with the calf and two other females. Beyond that the fact hadn't interested him much. He now realized how wrong he had been. Whatever Tyr-Aurell was doing inside the enclosure, the ngahyak objected to it. One of them was standing over the bleating calf. The other two were advancing upon her, heads lowered, emitting the rasping snarl he had heard before. She could have made her way back to the entrance, he thought. They might have let her go. But for some reason she didn't; if anything she was trying to edge further into the cargobay.

„Emissary!" he shouted over the noise made by the animals.

The ngahyak closest to him turned its head, baring its huge square front teeth at him and pawing the floor. He could hear the nervous spluttering of someone in his back. Worf reached for the gate and pushed back the bolt. „Emissary!" he roared.

„I can't!" she yelled without looking back. „It's my pet!"

At that, one of the ngahyak charged.

Worf gasped. Tyr-Aurell got out of the way with remarkable dexterity, and the beast almost plowed into the wall before executing a plump turn, shaking itself, and going for her again. By that time, Worf was inside the enclosure, the gate slamming shut behind him. He had been groping for the small phaser under his sash, but realized quickly that a fairly high setting would be needed to stun a ngahyak. It might die. The Yalnragians would object. The words _diplomatic relations_ flashed through his mind, in the captain's voice. He saved the option for later. „Emissary, get behind me!" he shouted. A ngahyak was approaching him menacingly, shaking its head from side to side. Worf tried to dodge it, and still keep Tyr-Aurell in view. The calf was howling pitifully. From somewhere behind came the sound of frantic drumming.

There was no question of anyone getting behind him now. The animal ahead was breaking into a trot. They might be slow to react, but they were very quick movers. Worf dove, rolled and got to his feet again while the ngahyak thundered past; he could feel the floor shaking. He looked round for Tyr-Aurell, who was retreating backwards towards the wall, one of the animals following while the other was still keeping between the intruder and the calf. This was madness. They would kill her. He approached the calf, distracting the adult which promptly turned in his direction, snarling at him. From the corner of his eye he could see the animal he had just dodged approaching again. He started towards Tyr-Aurell, giving the guardian ngahyak just enough of a berth to avoid its snapping teeth. The calf screeched, and the ngahyak pursuing Tyr-Aurell turned its head. „Emissary!" he called again, ducking away from a lashing hoof. He was beginning to feel slightly frantic himself. What was she _doing_?

„My pet's over there!" she shouted back, and there was the sickening thud of a ngahyak's horns hitting the wall. When he came up again he saw that she had moved out of the way just in time. The woman was nimble, he had to grant her that. And she kept a cool head. For all that he could have yelled with exasperation.

„I will fetch it!" he snapped instead, breathlessly. „Get _out_!" And when she sidestepped the lumbering animal again he managed to grab her arm, and propel her towards the exit with all the force he could muster. He realized a moment later that it must have taken her clean off her feet, but at least the three animals lost interest in her immediately. _Over there_, from the general direction of her movements, would be the corner where Geordi's team had installed a hay rack. Trust the miserable, useless little vermin to go for the far corner. He slipped past the butting head of one of the brutes, and dove for the rack.

It was there all right. It was sitting on the floor, right underneath the rack where a few small bundles of replicated grass were scattered, chomping away – although the moment he was within reach he heard the faint, shrill screeching start up. He grabbed it by its fluffy fur, and then a pair of curved horns dug into his back, throwing him forward, and flat down on the floor. He gasped, rolled, got to his knees, and made for the exit almost from under the feet of the three ngahyak. The gate opened for him just in time. Then he collapsed in a panting heap on the floor of the observation area while three pairs of horns crashed against the bars just behind.

It took him a few seconds to get his breath back. When he pushed himself up the first thing he saw was Tyr-Aurell who was kneeling on the deck nearby, looking slightly dishevelled and watching him with evident concern. „Are you all right, Lieutenant?"

He managed one curt nod. As he rose to his feet, the emissary following suit, he noticed the tribble – one of the layghiar had picked it up, and now stood beaming at him. „You saved the haylm," the layghiar stated with evident satisfaction.

„As a matter of fact," said Tyr-Aurell, dusting herself off, „I rather think you saved me as well. I am deeply in your debt, Lieutenant. What's that – are you hurt?"

Worf looked where she was looking, and frowned. He hadn't noticed it before, but blood was trickling from his right hand. He took a closer look. There was a small wound across the base of his thumb. Rather like a cut made with a bluntish –

He frowned as the implications were working their way through. It was incredible. The thing had _bitten_ him. Him, Lieutenant Worf. He shuddered involuntarily on realizing that he had actually touched the creature, and just refrained from wiping his hand on his trousers. He was opening his mouth to ask, sternly, what the tribble had been doing in the cargo bay in the first place, and then a solemn voice said in his back: „Lieutenant, this outrage will have serious repercussions. The Unity will not allow disrespect towards the ngahyak to go un-"

„Wait a moment," Tyr-Aurell interrupted, inserting herself between Worf and the Yalnragian with a glare. „Mr… Nalim, I believe? – I'm sorry, but the Unity will have more important things to consider. Lieutenant, I am wondering if someone may have put my pet inside that enclosure."

Worf frowned. „Emissary?"

„It only just occurred to me. I was going for a walk and took it with me. Then I thought I'd look in at the calf. I remember putting the tribble down on the floor – I thought it might be frightened when the ngahyak became restive. The next thing I knew it was in the middle of the enclosure. They can move rather quickly, but I really don't know why it would have wanted to go in there."

Worf's frown became a scowl. „And those animals almost killed you when you went after it," he growled. „I agree. It might have been done deliberately."

„This is outrageous." Nalim took a step forward. „First you upset the ngahyak. Now you are trying to cast a ridiculous suspicion –"

„Did anybody leave this cargobay after the emissary came in?" demanded Worf, interrupting him without compunction.

Silence. Then the layghiar holding the tribble spoke up, hesitantly. „I think someone did, Lieutenant. The myal-lun representative, Yilun – he was in here with us..." He turned along with everybody else as the door hissed open, admitting the captain and another Yalnragian. „But then, there he is," he finished with evident relief.

„Oh dear," murmured Tyr-Aurell. Picard was looking very much off duty, wearing a gray robe and the slightly irritated expression of a man in search of an explanation. His eyes widened a little as he took in the tableau – Worf, Tyr-Aurell (who had deftly moved in front of the layghiar holding the tribble), four Yalnragians of different sects, and the three ngahyak glowering at them from within the enclosure.

„Lieutenant, what the _hell_ is going on here? I was told there was some kind of incident –"

Worf pulled himself up. „Yes, Captain. It is possible that someone attempted –"

„It was nothing but a misunderstanding." Tyr-Aurell was right beside him now; he could feel an elbow digging into his ribs, and turned his head to give her an uncomprehending frown. „I really thought something was wrong with the animals. As it turned out, they behaved quite normally. I shouldn't have gone near that calf." She gave Picard a charming smile, and Worf's ankle a determined kick.

„But –" began Nalim, evidently as surprised at this new version as Worf was himself.

„But," said Worf almost simultaneously, looking down in bewilderment, „you said you went in to –"

„As a matter of fact I behaved like an idiot. You needn't defend me, Lieutenant." She finally caught his eye. He had no idea what to make of the imploring look. He had no idea why she was now contradicting herself. He did have an idea that she wanted him to play along, and he didn't know why. And then she said: „Captain, please, I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to be disturbed at this hour. I am sure Mr. Yilun meant well in fetching you, but it's really my fault. Perhaps we should just leave these gentlemen to their business –"

„Wait." Nalim stepped forward now. „This is unacceptable. You, Lieutenant, will have to answer to the Unity. Captain, I demand he be taken to task for his actions."

Picard's eyebrows went up. „I don't know what his actions were, but I confess to a certain curiosity." He gave Worf a quizzical look. „What are you _doing_ here in the middle of the night, Lieutenant?"

„He upset the ngahyak," stated Nalim.

„Oh, no. _I_ did that. Quite unintentionally," said Tyr-Aurell.

„I..." Worf looked from one face to the other, floundering helplessly. „I believed the emissary to be in danger," he managed finally.

Tyr-Aurell gave him a brilliant smile. „I am _so_ sorry to have been the unwitting cause of all this," she declared emphatically.

„I would like a word with you in private, Captain," Nalim said grimly.

„Will tomorrow do?" Picard was looking faintly bewildered now.

„Of _course_." Tyr-Aurell put a hand on Nalim's shoulder. The Yalnragian turned with a frown. „Captain, would you excuse us for a moment? I am afraid I have some apologizing to do."

„But –" Nalim began again.

„Mr. Nalim, please," she said soothingly. „Certainly we can talk about this?"

„Well," said Picard, looking as if he thought he was missing something, „I hope you'll be kind enough to enlighten me, Lieutenant. And of course I'll expect your grievance, Mr. Nalim. Mr. Worf, report, please – I'd like to get back to my quarters."

„I will accompany you, Captain," Worf said firmly, tapping his communicator at the same time. "Worf to Lieutenant Singh. Send a security detail to Cargobay five immediately." He didn't understand what was going on, he had no idea why Tyr-Aurell wanted the captain to remain ignorant of the reason for the whole incident, but he did know now that there might be an assassin loose on the ship. If he had gone for Tyr-Aurell she would need protection – and he might go for the captain next. Nalim gave him a vicious look as he walked past him to the door. Tyr-Aurell gave him a warmly appreciative smile. He had no idea what either of them meant by it. The security detail burst in just seconds later, and Worf mentally congratulated himself to his foresight in keeping his people in readiness. "Look after the emissary", he said curtly on leaving the cargo bay.

„Mr. Worf," the captain said the moment the door had closed behind them, „what was _that_ all about?"

„I do not know," he replied, quite sincerely. „But I believe there may be an assassin aboard."

Picard stopped in his tracks. „I beg your pardon?"

„Someone may have put the emissary's pet into the enclosure," he explained. "She went after it. The ngahyak almost killed her. I got there just in time."

„It _may_ have it wandered in by itself," the captain pointed out, just as Worf might have expected. He didn't bother to answer. He merely sighed to himself. „And that was all?" inquired Picard.

„I... believe so, sir." He frowned.

„Then what happened to your hand?"

Appalled, Worf looked down. Sure enough, his hand was stained with dried blood. „It is nothing," he declared, uncomfortably. „A mere scratch."

„Get it seen to," said Picard.

„But Captain –"

„If this was caused by one of those animals I want you to report to sickbay."

„Sir, I –"

„Worf," the captain said with a trace of impatience, „if there is no other way to keep you from acting like a Spartan soldier I'm giving you a direct order."

Worf's shoulders sagged. For a moment he actually considered telling Picard that the tiny wound had not, in fact, been caused by a ngahyak. Then he thought better of it. The captain would still have sent him to sickbay.

They had almost reached Picard's quarters when the door ahead swished open. Both of them stopped abruptly. A Yalnragian appeared, looking cautiously in the opposite direction, then turning his head. The captain had barely a moment to catch the look of utter surprise on the man's face before Worf shoved him unceremoniously behind his back, and then made for the flabbergasted intruder. Picard winced as he heard the dull thuds of a few practised karate chops. Something clattered to the floor. A moment later the intruder collapsed in a heap. With a brief hiss of released breath, Worf bent down to pick something up.

„He had a knife, Captain."

Picard looked down on the unconscious Yalnragian with a degree of detached interest. "I rather believe that this is the representative of the ghandu sect."

„Captain," Worf said with careful patience. „He could have killed you."

„Well, yes. It seems you may have been right about having an assassin aboard, Lieutenant."

Worf gave him a slightly pained look before hitting his communicator. „Worf to security station. Send a team down to the captain's quarters. – I will have them searched, sir. There may be another."

„Probably not," Picard said composedly. „Smuggling two assassins aboard after my experience with the s'nglanyl sect would have been extremely difficult."

„Sir," replied Worf, doing his best not to sound exasperated, „I tried to warn you before."

„So you did." Picard looked at the open door a little wistfully and resigned himself to waiting. Worf watched him with a frown, decided against pursuing the subject, and drew his phaser instead – just to be on the safe side.

About a minute later a turbolift door hissed somewhere in the distance. Beya and Sanders came pounding down the corridor, stopping in their tracks on seeing the motionless form on the floor. Beya gave Picard an incredulous stare.

„Not _again_, sir."

„I'm afraid so," murmured Picard.

„Watch him," snapped Worf. „And you" – he gave Sanders a curt nod – „come with me."

The captain gave them about two minutes before deciding that enough was enough, and following them inside. Worf was standing in the middle of the living room, looking dissatisfied.

„There's nobody here," concluded Picard.

„No." The Klingon frowned. „I do not like it. I will ask a security team to stand guard here."

„That won't be necessary." Picard nodded to Sanders, who took the hint and joined his colleague outside.

„Sir?"

„Lieutenant, you caught an intruder – who may or may not be a potential assassin, and who may or may not be in a condition to be questioned tomorrow. I truly appreciate it, but if there were another around you would have found him. I'll use a voice override to lock that door, to be on the safe side, but it is two in the morning, and frankly I would like to get some sleep."

Worf's frown deepened. „I do not like it," he repeated. „I would prefer it if someone were to stay here for your protection."

„No," Picard told him, very kindly and very firmly. „I put up with this sort of thing on Yalnrag, but I won't be harassed on my own ship, in my own quarters, by my own security. What you post outside in the corridor I leave to you, but as for these rooms – I'll ask you to take yourself off, and your team as well."

Worf glowered at him. „Captain, you will remember that there were two of them last time. And they did not enter by the door."

„True enough. They came in by the window. Very well, I promise I won't open the window. And now, if you please... get out."

**- - - - - - - - -**


	24. Chapter 24

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 23**

„It seems," said Captain Picard, sounding intrigued, „that Mr. Lyag-Iln is not a member of the ghandu after all – that was merely the disguise he used to get aboard. But then he is definitely not of the s'nglanyl either. Asghiul and Gysial Uns have assured me that he doesn't belong to any recognized sect. They are still trying to determine if there are any radical splinter groups that have gone unnoticed."

„That's quite fascinating," Tyr-Aurell agreed. „Er... Captain, if I may ask, why did he want to kill you?"

„Oh." The captain didn't look particularly disconcerted. „Apparently he thinks the purity of Yalnragian faith will be compromised by closer ties with the Federation. And he surmised that my death at the hands of a Yalnragian representative would make everybody think twice about them. At least that's what Worf told me about the results of the questioning so far."

„Er... he never was in the cargo bay, then? You discovered him only because _you_ went there, and caught him when he was leaving your quarters?"

„Apparently so. It seems he made good use of the fact that the security team posted on that deck had just been summoned to the cargo bay." There was an amused glint in Picard's eyes. „It also seems that Lieutenant Worf has to thank your tribble for my safety, Emissary."

And then there was a brief interval of unbroken silence.

„Oh," Tyr-Aurell said at last, quite softly. „Yes. Yes, quite. My tribble. So he... this man never had anything to do with the tribble's presence in that enclosure."

Picard looked down on his hands for a moment. „Actually," he said, „even Lieutenant Worf has been… well, he does not entirely disregard the possibility that the tribble went in by itself. Because it was attracted by that toxic blue grass they are feeding the naghyak," he added, carefully.

„I... see." She bit her lip. „The grass. Of course. It... well, it's true that it seemed to like it, and it does tend... and I am aware, of course… well, let's just say that Lieutenant Worf doesn't think too highly of my pet."

„No," admitted the captain, earnestly. „I'm afraid he doesn't."

She looked up sharply at that. Picard met her look with serene innocence, but she wasn't fooled. After a moment a tiny sound escaped her, halfway between a purr and a giggle. „Captain... if I may ask, how long have you known about the... about my pet?"

„A few days, no more." He was looking curious now. „Why do you ask? Was it supposed to be a secret?"

„Captain," she said, sober again, „I am sincerely sorry. I really didn't want you to have to deal with this at all. If I had known in advance I would have left it at home. But you see, I only learned about your pet allergy when I came aboard."

„My..." Picard blinked. „My pet allergy?"

„Yes. I... oh, I'm so sorry. I thought it needn't become an issue at all. Commander Riker told me about it – he said he hadn't mentioned the tribble to you. If I had known there would be trouble –"

„Riker," echoed Picard, sounding a little stunned.

„He did his best," she pleaded. „It is entirely my fault. I shouldn't have taken it to places where... it was really very inconsiderate of me."

„Not at all," he said, comfortingly. „Please, you shouldn't waste another thought on it. Nobody has come to any harm, after all."

„You are much too forgiving, Captain," she sighed.

**- - - - - - - - -**

Lieutenant Worf, meanwhile, was feeling at odds with most of his crewmates – which was how he had been feeling for the best part of this mission.

Having received a direct order the night before he had, naturally, proceeded to sickbay in the hopes of finding some assistant on duty. He had found Doctor Crusher instead who informed him that it was beneficial for doctors to be pulling the occasional night shift. She had examined his hand, and asked instantly:

„Where did you get this?"

At first he had pretended not to have heard. Then he had informed her, sternly, that there had been an incident in one of the cargo bays and that he had to return there as soon as possible. It didn't work at all, of course.

„This wasn't caused by a ngahyak," she told him firmly. „This was a small creature – something with... wait a moment. Worf," she said, looking it him sideways with an odd expression, „what _was_ it that bit you?"

Worf briefly toyed with the idea of simply marching out again, daring her to stop him. The he decided against it. She outranked him, after all, and she _would_ pull rank – he had seen her doing it. She would find out, too, whether he told her or not.

So he told her.

„_The emissary's tribble?_" she repeated with a breathlessness he refused to interpret. „It actually _bit_ you, Worf? That's... well, I... well, who'd have thought it. And I always believed them to be such friendly creatures," she concluded, a little shakily.

„If you would just finish with me, Doctor."

„Yes, of course." She bent over his hand with a care he thought exaggerated. „Keep still, will you? You don't want a scar from that I'm sure... Worf, it just occurred to me – this is a very rare occurrence. In fact I don't think I've ever heard of anybody being bitten by a tribble before. Would you mind if I wrote an article about it? Just a short article? I haven't done anything for the _Starfleet Medical Quarterly_ in ages."

Worf straightened, pulling his hand away at the first opportunity. She had done a good job he saw; the small cut had vanished without a trace.

„I am not in favor of appearing in an article," he told her.

„I wouldn't mention your name," she promised. „It would be quite unprofessional to do that anyway."

He thought for a moment. She hadn't made him feel unduly silly, all things considered.

„Very well," he conceded, a little reluctantly.

Beverly Crusher gave him a radiant smile. „Thank you, Worf. That's really nice of you. I'll just say _a Klingon officer_, then."

He was halfway to the door when it hit him, and by then it was too late. He stopped for a moment, opening his mouth; then he merely gave her a withering look and left, pondering, incensedly, the twisted Human sense of humor. The captain's misplaced amusement in issues concerning his own safety was bad enough. Beverly Crusher's brand was sick.

He had still felt slightly put out the next morning, and the feeling intensified when he questioned the Yalnragian would-be assassin. This man had tried to hurt the captain, and now he refused to answer most of his questions. He felt certain that he could have made him talk quite easily, but of course he wasn't supposed to do that. The captain wouldn't have liked it. With a soft snarl, a couple of curt instructions flung at his subordinates, and an inward sigh, he had gone off to the main bridge to deliver his report.

The captain had listened serenely and dismissed him, telling him to consider his shift over, and Worf left to have a few words with Asghiul regarding the safekeeping of a dangerous Yalnragian criminal and his eventual transportation back to his homeworld. The priest was subdued, apologetic and uncommonly polite, which pacified Worf a little. Afterwards he went down to Ten Forward. He had protested the extra free time, of course, but Picard had quietly overruled him, and although he wouldn't have admitted it he was quite tired. The incessant subtle noise was getting to him.

In Ten Forward the first sight that greeted him was a veritable colony of layghiar, and in fact members of two or three other sects, crowding the bar. The layghiar spokesman, Silm, actually gave him one of their abbreviated little bows when he saw him coming in. The second thing he noticed was Gysial Uns sitting ramrod-straight at one of the small tables by the forward windows, looking disapproving while Guinan served him a drink. Worf took refuge at his own customary table.

A large glass of prune juice restored his spirits a little. Stars came streaking towards the windows. The captain had ordered another increase in speed, which was gratifying. Another day and a half, and this ridiculous nightmare would be over. Worf ordered another glass of prune juice and began thinking pleasurable thoughts of a workout in the holodeck. He could do with one, just to get rid of the surplus tenseness.

„Mind if I join you?" Riker was standing by the table, glass in hand. Worf shook his head, briefly, and Riker sat down and stretched his legs.

„Tell me one thing. Was that little incident in the cargobay an attempt to do away with the emissary, or wasn't it?"

Worf had been wondering the same thing. If it had been it might mean that he had caught one assassin, but that another was still at large. The captain didn't think so, but that was to be expected, after all. By now Worf himself tended to blame the tribble's boundless stupidity – but you never knew. A little reluctantly he answered: „The layghiar believe the tribble to be a guardian animal. A true layghiar would not harm it. But a member of the myal-lun was present too, and the yulghiar representative. And there may be an assassin in disguise among the layghiar. – The captain believes the tribble to have gone in by itself," he added, for fairness' sake.

„The captain thinks the tribble –?" Worf looked up quickly at the sharper tone. Riker was looking at him, eyes narrowing slightly. „He _mentioned_ the tribble?"

Worf nodded. „It is a possibility," he admitted, reluctantly. Then, by way of explanation, he added: „I told him of the animal's stupidity."

„Oh. I see." Riker's lips quirked briefly; then he raised his glass and took a measured sip. For a moment Worf was under the impression that the first officer was doing some very quick thinking. „Just as well no animal was harmed during your rescue mission in that cargo bay," Riker stated eventually with a shake of his head, in what appeared to be a complete non sequitur.

„I did consider stunning them. But I was trying to... bear the diplomatic repercussions in mind," growled Worf.

Riker nodded. „Yes, of course. But quite apart from that – the captain wouldn't have liked it at all."

Worf gave him an uncomprehending frown. „He did not appear concerned about the beasts, Commander."

„No, of course not. After all, nothing happened. But if there had been… Worf, you did know he's a member of the Animal Sanctity Association, didn't you?"

Worf simply stared. After a second or two it occurred to him that this must be one of Commander Riker's dubious jokes. He said so.

„No. Not at all." Riker returned his look unflinchingly. The blue-gray eyes were quite serious. „He told me himself. He doesn't want it to be commonly known, of course."

„But –" Worf couldn't believe it. He wasn't ready to believe it. _This is foolishness. He would not_. _Animal Sanctity. No_. „There must be a mistake," he said firmly.

„I'm sorry." Riker was looking contrite. „I didn't know you didn't know... but perhaps it's just as well I mentioned it. He _did_ tell me about it, you know."

Worf reached for his glass of prune juice, and drained it at one gulp.

„I heard about that injury you got last night," said Riker, tactfully changing the subject. Worf scowled at him, but the first officer was all sympathy. „Hope it doesn't hurt too much. Would you prefer it if we postponed our appointment in the phaser range until you've recovered? No? Oh, yes, you're almost ambidextrous, aren't you." There was a telltale glint in Riker's eyes now. Worf chose to ignore it, seething quietly. He knew from long experience that if Riker chose to laugh at him there was nothing he could do about it. Except, of course, beat him in the phaser range – left-handed. Which he would, he vowed to himself.

The first officer heaved himself out of his chair. „Well," he announced, „I'll be getting back to work. Gysial Uns has drawn up an entire new schedule for every Yalnragian aboard. I'd better check it."

And work out if any of the recent occurrences might have anything to do with the fact that he had deliberately kept the tribble's existence from Picard, he thought as he crossed the lounge. He didn't really think so, but his conscience had been giving him a hard time recently. He had a feeling that it had simply gone on too long. Not that he wasn't enjoying himself – Worf's expression when he mentioned the A.S.A. just now had been priceless. But it couldn't possibly go on like this. He couldn't help feeling that Fate must have something in store for him, something inconceivably awful.

The sunny smile Guinan gave him as he made for the door only confirmed him in his premonitions.

**- - - - - - - - -**


	25. Chapter 25

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter ****24**

„Bridge to Captain Picard."

The captain looked up, the black rook in his hand suspended in midair. „Picard here."

„Sir, we have just been hailed by the authorities on Brentalia. Preparations are almost complete. They expect us to enter standard orbit in about seven hours."

„And will we, Mr. Data?"

„Barring further incidents, yes, Captain, we will. I will now inform the priests."

„Make it so. Picard out." And the captain put the rook down with a determined-sounding little _clack_.

In the chair opposite, Tyr-Aurell frowned as she surveyed the board. „I think," she said, sounding amused in spite of herself, „I should quit here and now. It'll be mate in six moves I believe."

„I'm afraid so." The captain gave her a slightly apologetic look.

„All right. I surrender." She gracefully tipped her king, and then rested her chin on her joined hands, regarding him soulfully. „Captain, may I ask you a personal question?"

Picard smiled, and Guinan, who was approaching at that moment to place fresh drinks on the table, thought that the captain was smiling a lot during those games – by his standards, at least.

„Certainly, Emissary."

„Do you have a pet allergy?"

„Do I –" For a moment he was looking slightly startled. Then he looked down, and she noticed that his eyes were crinkling. „No. Actually, I don't."

„I thought so. In that case, would you mind telling me why I have been laboring under the delusion that you do?" Her mouth was twitching as she said it.

Picard had, in fact, given that question considerable thought himself. He had even arrived at a possible conclusion, based on a long knowledge of his command crew. But while he was feeling sincerely sorry for his security chief he couldn't quite bring himself to blacken his first officer's character – not without proof positive, anyway.

„Let's just say there are wheels within wheels here," he finally said. „But I am quite sure the purpose of this... well, misrepresentation... was not to deceive _you_, Emissary."

„Ah," she said, enigmatically. After a pause she added thoughtfully: „Your first officer has a somewhat ruthless sense of humor, Captain. In a way it is quite irresistible."

„You might call it that," agreed Picard, taking refuge in his drink. The cognac they served in Ten Forward was both syntheholic and replicated, but there was no help for it now.

„He also informed me," said Tyr-Aurell with a twinkle in her lavender eyes and a pronounced purr in her voice, „that you are a member of the Animal Sanctity Association."

The captain froze, his eyes widening a little, his glass halfway to his mouth. After a moment he carefully put the glass down again.

„He did, did he," he said rather flatly. Tyr-Aurell giggled.

„Yes, I rather thought you would like it. I'm a member of a few organizations myself, of course. It goes with the job. But the A.S.A.! I must admit, though, I believed him at the time. He can be so plausible when he chooses, and he was so tactful and considerate regarding that pet allergy of yours..." She paused, looking at him out of slightly narrowed eyes. „Captain, I... you are not a member, are you?"

„Well –" For a couple of seconds the captain was sorely tempted to lie. There were limits to how far you had to go along with the ridiculous ramifications of this hapless mission, certainly. For another second or so he felt himself thinking singularly uncharitable thoughts about Will Riker, who was evidently having the time of his life. Then he pulled himself together. Facts were facts. In the end he said on a tiny sigh: „As a matter of fact, I am."

She took it in her stride – almost. There was a tiny delay before she answered, and that was all.

„The A.S.A. did incredible work on Harga Prime," she said, and disappeared behind her own glass.

Picard drew a breath. „Emissary –"

„And I am not at all sure the Tevlin possum could have been saved if ESPrA and the A.S.A. hadn't pushed for an investigation. I remember. Some of us thought they were raising a fuss over nothing. When we realized the climatic conditions _were_ changing it was almost too late."

„Emissary, I'd –"

„I'm... ashamed, Captain. I really had no business making fun of the organization. I know one or two members who are a little... eccentric, shall we say. That's all the explanation I can offer, and it's no excuse at all. I am deeply sorry. I can only hope –"

„Emissary," interrupted Picard gently. „Please, there's no need for this. I'm... as it happens, my membership isn't exactly voluntary."

„It isn't?" It was almost touching, he thought, to see the sudden hope in her face. „Oh, Captain, if you are saying this in order to spare my feelings –"

„Nothing of the sort," he replied, soothingly. „In actual fact, I had very little choice in the matter."

She looked at him, the smile slowly creeping back into her slanting lavender eyes. „Now _that_ sounds as if there was a story in this somewhere," she said.

Picard took a sip of his syntheholic cognac, frowned a little, looked at his glass, and cleared his throat. „Well, not really. At least, it was quite a few years ago, and I wouldn't have thought..."

"But yes. Please, Captain," she said, reaching for her own glass and happily leaning back in her chair to listen.

The intercom interrupted them when the captain had barely finished. „Bridge to Captain Picard."

„Picard here. Go ahead, Mr. Data."

„Sir, I have been contacted by Commander MacIntosh, the chief of administration of Brentalia. He would like a word with you."

„I'll be there in a minute. Picard out." The captain got to his feet, giving Tyr-Aurell a slightly apologetic look. „Excuse me."

„Of course. Although I have every intention of dining with you one more time before we go our separate ways." There was a distinct twinkle in her eyes. „And thank you for saving me from a dreadful embarrassment."

„Well, I'm... To be honest, Emissary, while I won't dispute the fact that my association with the A.S.A. has been quite useful in this – for the first time in eight years, I _might_ add –"

"You are still going to terminate said association at the earliest opportunity."

"Er, yes. You guessed."

Tyr-Aurell smiled. „Well, you _have_ been tugging down your tunic just now, Captain."

„Oh," he said, evidently at a loss. After a moment he added: „Do I do that a lot?"

She was opening her mouth to reply when a small warning voice was making itself heard in the back of her mind, and caused her to modify her answer at the last possible moment.

„O... occasionally," said Tyr-Aurell, sacrificing strict accuracy to a higher truth. „Dinner tomorrow, Captain?"

He nodded and left, and she leaned back in her chair and took a thoughtful gulp of her drink. _That was close_, the small voice said sternly. _He would never have done it again_.

And then, a propos of nothing in particular, a thought occurred to her.

**- - - - - - - -**

Commander MacIntosh, administrative chief of the planet of Brentalia, took some convincing.

"But all the material I have says that you, Captain, were the driving force behind the rapport eventually reached," he told Picard in a dry and precise voice, glancing down at what was evidently a padd on his desk. "It seems only fair… after all, this _is_ our modus operandi in assigning designations to specific populations."

"I fully understand that. But we both know the amount of work that is done by others before somebody – usually a captain – can take the credit." He saw Commander MacIntosh looking thoughtful at that, and continued: "The ingenuity and resourcefulness exerted by my first officer on behalf of the animals on the _Enterprise_ are… astounding, Commander, there is no other word for it. The discretion he has used is exemplary. For much of the time none of the parties concerned even knew of his efforts. For all that to go unacknowledged and unrewarded once again…"

"There is something in what you say, Captain," said Commander MacIntosh, giving a slow nod of assent. "It would be a slightly unorthodox step, of course, but that in itself should not constitute an obstacle."

"It just doesn't seem entirely fair to me that after all this _my_ name should be linked for all time with Brentalia's ngahyak population," Picard added earnestly.

"One could almost get the impression," said Commander MacIntosh blandly, "that you did not _wish_ to be associated with those animals, Captain… But be that as it may," he said just as Picard was opening his mouth, alarmed, "there appears to be sufficient reason to make an exception in our usual proceedings. The William T. Riker herd it will be. Unless you wish to reconsider the issue I will inform the FeCoPES, then. As well as the _Starfleet Bulletin_, they are sure to mention it," he added to Picard's deep and silent delight. "You do realize, don't you – this is a major achievement? If you wish to reconsider giving up the credit, now might be your last chance."

"My mind is quite made up," Picard assured him.

"Very well," said Commander MacIntosh. "I take it you would be willing to provide additional information should the _Bulletin_ require it? And the FeCoPES biannual, _Salvage_…"

"Any time," the captain promised. "And thank you very much for your… understanding, Commander. It is much appreciated. Picard out."

The door alarm chirped almost the moment he had switched the monitor off. "Come!", he called, and in walked Data, padd in hand.

„Sir, Commander La Forge informs me that we could begin unloading the ngahyak now."

Picard's eyebrows went up. „Really?"

„However, Asghiul and Lialnru have let me know that they would like to go down first, to inspect the site and make sure it has been sufficiently prepared. I should point out that transporting the ngahyak to the surface by shuttle might be accomplished before dusk if we were to begin straight away."

„And it won't be accomplished within the week if Asghiul and Lialnru go down first and find cause for complaint, which they will. Very well. Begin transporting the creatures at your earliest convenience."

„Yes, sir. Commander MacIntosh has provided us with a summary of the measures taken to ensure the ngahyak's comfort." Data put the padd down on the desk. „There has also been a message from Counselor Troi. She will arrive here by shuttle within the next four hours. And Captain –"

„Yes, Data?"

„The emissary has expressed a desire to remain on Brentalia for a week with the team we are leaving there to oversee the assimilation of the ngahyak. To complete her studies, she said. She very kindly offered to pass an invitation to the exozoology symposium on Pacifica on to me. In fact she said that after the processing and compilation work I did on the ngahyak I was probably as qualified to speak on the subject as she is herself."

Picard nodded. „I see. You want me to grant you leave of absence?"

„I was going to apply for it, sir."

„Well, I don't think there'll be a problem," said the captain, a little surprised. Data appeared unusually hesitant. „If that is all – "

„No, sir. There is one slight detail."

**- - - - - - - -**

„Impressive creatures," said Commander Riker, nodding solemnly as he watched the _Enterprise_'s cargo shuttle taking off again, the long bluish grass blowing as it lifted off the ground. The ngahyak it had delivered to the surface of Brentalia's newly prepared habitat stood motionless, head lowered menacingly. A small group of four or five animals that had been deposited earlier had already wandered off, grazing as they went. From a hilltop a little distance away the sound of drumming was carried towards them on the nutmeg-scented breeze. A pale green moon hung low in the afternoon sky.

Lieutenant Worf gave him a sideways glance, as if to determine whether or not Riker was serious, and punched a few observations into his padd. He saw no reason whatsoever for lingering here. The place was very much like Yalnrag. It even smelled the same. He had a lurking suspicion that the commander was enjoying the fact that he, Worf, had been thrust into the role of ngahyak expert.

His communicator chirped. „_Enterprise_ to Worf."

„Yes. Worf here."

„As far as we can tell everything is going smoothly," Melendez' voice informed him. "The tents are in place, no incidents so far, and the layghiar are very happy with the habitat. I thought you might want to know – just in case you'd like to return to the ship, sir." There was a faint undertone of hilarity in her voice.

Worf took it in his stride. He had come to appreciate Susana Melendez during the two weeks on Yalnrag. He didn't even mind her laughing at him – for some reason people he liked had a tendency to do that anyway.

„If my presence is not required I _will_ return," he stated. „The emissary is still on the ship?"

"She'll be beaming down with the rest of the team in a few hours. And the haylm, of course. The layghiar would be disconsolate if she didn't bring it," the disembodied voice replied, sounding distinctly amused now, and Worf terminated the conversation without bothering to reply.

„Lovely woman," Riker commented wistfully. „I'll have to make sure _I_ get an away mission with her some time."

Worf gave him a crushing look and tapped his communicator. „Worf to_ Enterprise_," he said with an unworthy feeling of relief. "Two to beam up."

**- - - - - - - -**


	26. Chapter 26

**CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL**

**Chapter 25**

„That," said Deanna Troi severely, „was _not_ what I had in mind when I said you shouldn't let it get out of hand."

Riker had the grace to look uncomfortable for about two seconds. „It didn't get out of hand, exactly," he explained. „When she mentioned the word _allergy_ it just fell into place. It was too perfect to be missed. Especially when he... Deanna, did you know the captain's a member of the Animal Sanctity Association?"

„He's a _what_?" she squeaked.

„Animal Sanctity Association," he grinned. „Honestly. I didn't make that up. Somebody recruited him eight years ago, and he says he hasn't got around to cancelling it. When he told me that – well, what could I do?"

Her lips quivered. „It was still infamous," she declared primly. „Pet allergy – Will, how _could_ you? And I'll have to help Worf get over a major trauma. But I wish I had been here… if only to stop it in time." She paused, a tiny giggle escaping her. She smothered it hastily. „It's good to be back," she declared then. „I got those oskoids for you, by the way."

„Great," he said, smiling at her. „They don't have chocolate on Yalnrag. But I got Secretary Ghanig to procure me a box of sweets from the best shop in town. For what it's worth – wait until I've told you all about whitefood and darkfood."

„Still, thank you." She returned the smile. „We could have dinner together."

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - **

The universe had returned to some semblance of sanity – at least as far as Lieutenant Worf was concerned. The _Enterprise_ was still in orbit around Brentalia, unloading the last of the team of zoologists and their gear, but they would be leaving within the hour. The loathsome animals were gone. So were the troublesome priests and the rest of their guardians – tambourines and all. So was the danger to the captain. So was the tribble. He did feel a twinge of regret that the emissary was gone as well. She was a charming lady. It was a pity he wouldn't have another opportunity to discuss Klingon ethics with her.

What remained was a faint suspicion that he had been missing something all along. Several things did not quite add up, and they bothered him – some of them more than others. Lieutenant Worf found himself frowning when he tried to sort them out.

There was this business about the captain, for one. Riker had more or less sworn that the captain was a member of something called the Animal Sanctity Association. The mere idea offended him. He had never heard of the Animal Sanctity Association before, and he didn't want to. He liked to believe that he knew quite a lot about his commanding officer. It didn't make sense.

He would work it out later he decided. It was time to get back to the bridge.

He had barely stepped out into the corridor when he saw Susana Melendez rounding a corner, pausing for a moment on seeing him and then making for him at a brisk trot, her short dark curls dancing. She was carrying an equipment kit over her shoulder, evidently ready to beam down to Brentalia and join her colleagues.

„The animals are assimilating without trouble," he concluded – not because the brutes interested him (they didn't, now they were gone) but in order to be polite.

She smiled up at him. „Precisely. And I'm leaving too now. Barring any incidents we'll rejoin the ship in nine days. It's been a pleasure working with you, Lieutenant Worf."

He was taken aback, just a little. „It has been an honor," he stated gravely.

„And I thought," she added, the smile turning conspiratorial, „that maybe you would like to have this. As a souvenir of Yalnrag," she finished with a distinct twinkle, handing him a small folder before hurrying back down the corridor towards the nearest turbolift. He shook his head and retreated inside, waiting for the door to close before he opened the folder.

It was a full-length watercolor painting of himself, knee-deep in the windblown bluish grass of a hilltop, the sample container slung over his shoulder. He frowned, embarrassed, and pushed it back into the folder. Then he took it out again to have a look. Actually, he decided after a moment, it wasn't such a bad-looking picture at all. He held it at arm's length to study it, beginning to feel rather elated. It was in fact quite a good-looking picture. He tilted it, looking at it from a different angle. He had never realized that she painted people as well as landscapes. So _this_ was how he looked to his crewmates.

He returned the watercolor to its folder rather hastily when he realized that he had been standing there feeling flattered when he should have been on the bridge, doing his duty. It was ridiculous. Klingons did not succumb to vanity. He put the folder away on a shelf with a brief derisive snort, and hurriedly left his quarters.

Brentalia with its numerous small continents and archipelagos was still turning beneath them when he stepped out onto the bridge. Riker was lounging in the center chair, and Troi was there as well, looking relaxed and giving him a delighted smile when he took up his usual position. She was opening her mouth, presumably to greet him, when the captain's voice came over the intercom.

„Lieutenant Worf? Would you join me in my ready room for a moment?"

„On my way, Captain." He relinquished his station and made his way down the ramp.

Picard was just switching off his small terminal when Worf entered. „Ah, Lieutenant."

„You wanted to see me, Captain."

„Yes. In fact I wanted to thank you. I'm well aware that this has been a difficult mission for you. You did an exemplary job under trying circumstances. I appreciate your patience, and especially your _tolerance_." There was a distinct smile in Picard's eyes. „Well done, Mr. Worf."

Worf opened his mouth and shut it again. He had been doing his duty. It _had_ been trying. It did not matter; doing his duty was what mattered. Still, the captain's praise honored him. After a couple of seconds he said: „Thank you, sir."

„I am also aware," the captain continued, „that some aspects of your assignment turned out more difficult than strictly necessary. For what it's worth, I wouldn't have asked you to endure the company of a tribble had I known of its existence. I am sorry for that."

Worf straightened his shoulders. "Thank you, Captain. It was… nothing."

„Well, at the very least you'll hardly _regret_ being rid of this spacegoing circus, Lieutenant," said Picard, amused.

Worf frowned, momentarily distracted. „Circus, sir?"

„Oh." The captain leaned back in his chair and tried, not entirely successfully, to stifle a yawn. „A very ancient form of Earth entertainment, involving performing animals. And usually a great deal of noise."

Worf's eyes narrowed. „Sir," he began, tentatively.

„Yes, Mr. Worf?"

It wasn't the sort of thing he would usually ask his commanding officer. But the thought of it had been nagging him ever since Riker's disclosure, and now he felt more doubtful about it than ever.

„Commander Riker... _informed_ me that you are a member of the Animal Sanctity Association. I was not aware of this. He may have been mistaken," Worf added, hopefully.

For a moment Picard's eyes rested thoughtfully on the blank monitor sitting on his desk. Worf had an odd impression that the captain was debating something with himself. Then he looked up.

„No, Mr. Worf," he said gently. „You are quite correct. I am not a member of the Animal Sanctity Association."

„Yes, sir." Worf was aware of a feeling of gratitude. His captain wouldn't play him such a trick. Riker had been making fun of him as usual. He had known it all along.

"It is an honorable organization, though, doing valuable work," continued the captain. "There is nothing wrong with belonging to it, or to a similar organization. Commander Riker, for example, is a member of CUP."

Worf had never heard of CUP, and for a moment he hesitated. Something told him that it might be better not to ask. But in the end curiosity won out.

"CUP, sir?"

"Chorea Universalis Parorum, or the Universal Dance of Equals," the captain explained readily. "An organization working towards recognition of their belief that all lifeforms should have a say in the running of their respective home planets."

Worf swallowed. "All lifeforms."

"Yes, Mr. Worf. All lifeforms."

Silence. For some reason Worf found himself thinking, not of the ngahyak but of the tribble.

"And –" He was quite sure that he had heard correctly. And this, after all, was not Commander Riker. It would be uncharacteristic to the point of absurdity for the captain to be making fun of him in this manner. But he had to make sure.

"And… Commander Riker is a member."

"According to Emissary Tyr-Aurell, he is. You will admit, Lieutenant, that the emissary is a trustworthy source, and she informed me of this circumstance herself over dinner last night." A beat. "I am not entirely sure, because she did not say so in so many words, but I have a feeling" – and now, for a fraction of a second, Worf was quite sure that the captain was smiling – "that it may in fact be a gift membership, in which case the commander may as yet be unaware of the fact." Picard got to his feet. „If that is all, Lieutenant –"

„Yes, sir," Worf said reverently, letting Picard precede him onto the bridge.

„Sir," Takamura announced from Ops almost the moment Riker had vacated the center seat, „Commander Data's shuttle is launching from shuttlebay three now. He is hailing the bridge, Captain."

„On screen." Picard settled in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.

Data's face appeared on the main viewer. „Captain," he began, formally. „Requesting permission to leave the ship."

"Certainly, Data, permission is granted. I hope and trust you'll enjoy yourself on Pacifica – we'll see you in two to three weeks in the Horth sector, then."

„Yes, Captain. I would also like to thank Commander Riker for his kind offer. The matter has been of some concern to me, especially considering the fact that Spot does not seem to care for the majority of crew members."

Riker blinked. „Sorry, Data, I didn't quite get that. _What_ are you thanking me for?"

„Your very kind offer to look after Spot for me during my absence, Commander," Data explained with guileless serenity. „It is much appreciated. I will now be able to devote myself to the conference with a minimum of distractions. Data out."

„Wait a –" sputtered Riker, but the screen had already reverted to the image of Brentalia. „Sir, what the _hell_ did he mean by it? I didn't offer to look after his infernal cat. I wouldn't have if he'd given me the opportunity, and he never asked! The brute _hates_ me! I'd like to know what gave him the idea –"

„O dear," said the captain, looking a little disconcerted. „That's rather unfortunate. Ensign, please take us out of orbit. Plot a course for Starbase 122, warp five. – You see, I am afraid _I_ made that offer in your name, Will. I assumed that since you had been looking after the animal before you wouldn't mind."

Riker swallowed visibly. „Sir, with all due respect, I do mind. You've never met that animal. I don't know why he doesn't just leave it with the exobiology department, in a padlocked box. That cat is dangerous. And if you don't mind my saying it, if the brute really must be looked after by a senior officer every time, why don't _you_ have a go at it, Captain? The animal might like you better than it likes me."

„Course plotted and laid in," Ensign Giustini announced from the conn.

„That may be, Number One," conceded the captain, and Troi turned her head quite abruptly to look at him with very slightly narrowed eyes. „But I am afraid that is quite out of the question. Will, you must have heard by now that I'm allergic to pets." He raised his hand a little, savoring the moment. „Engage."

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - **

(The End)

**Author's Notes/Postscript: **

Whew. That did take longer than I thought it would. Or should.

Thank you all for your time, your patience and your feedback! You have been very entertaining, and very inspiring. I hope this has been mildly amusing in return.

And now for something completely different that should dispel some of the smell of cotton candy I sense hanging in the air.

There is another story here. I had no intention of uploading it, for the simple reason that it is incomplete, but I think I've changed my mind about that.

The finished bits amount to about one half of a full-length novel. I'm relatively happy with them as they stand; a little revising should do it. After that the going might get difficult, both for me (because very little of what follows is actually written down, although I know what happens) and for my readers (because that story, if finished, will have some very ugly moments). But for all I know it may stay unfinished for eternity. If you want to go along with this, I'll see you out there.


End file.
